Something Pretty
by Florence of Arabia
Summary: A sort of epilogue to Deadwood that talks about everyone's reactions to the events of the final episode of Season Three. Chapter 1 recaps "Tell Him Something Pretty" and subsequent chapters will talk about what everyone is thinking, feeling, and doing that night. I own nothing. These people belong to history, to HBO and most of all to David Milch. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

Something Pretty

AL

Greetings to those of you fond enough of fuckin' Deadwood to come seek out fan fiction on the internet. I don't like the internet much myself, never got an email with that wasn't saturated with the stink of bad news to be completely fucking honest.

SETH

Anyways, this here is a piece of fan fiction that talks about what all of us in Deadwood were doing and thinking and the like the day that George Hearst…

AL

Cocksucker

SETH

The day that George Hearst left town. The young lady responsible would like to make the disclaimer that she owns absolutely nothing, these characters are all real people but as imagined by David Milch and HBO she'd also like…

AL

Loopy cunt would also like us to say that she's sticking with the version of these fucking personages presented on the HBO show which was cancelled after three fucking seasons! Three seasons while those HBO cocksuckers lets their…

SETH

See, this is exactly why I did not want to do this with you. We were also asked to say that actual history has been somewhat disregarded in favor of the fictional account offered in the television program. The people here are being treated as fictional characters rather than real people.

AL

And if you don't fucking like it you can just write a fucking history paper or some such because this is fucking fan fiction. You hoopleheads should just be lucky that everything is capitalized and this won't feature long sex scene written by some hopped up teenage girl who desperately needs to get her snatch wet.

ALMA

No need for language like that Mr. Swearengen. Also this is Deadwood fan fiction, the readers expect more. I would like to say that though this will include a lot of very bad language and of course sexual and drug references, since some of us seem not to be able to keep our minds out of the gutter.

AL

What's a gutter?

ALMA

There will be no violence or sex scenes

AL

And no Mary fucking Sue's neither!

ALMA

Language, Mr. Swearengen. There will be no original characters, the ones already present are simply too good.

E.B.

Will there be slash? Sorry to ask just no one seems to have thought to include me in the briefing that you all seem to have. In essence E.B. was left out.

SETH

There will be some mild slash

E.B.

Yeah but who?

AL

Not you! That's all I know

ALMA

Our readers will simply have to continue to go through the rest of this to find out. So without further ado, Chapter 1

AL

Here's hopin' you fuckin' like it!

Chapter 1

The Delayed Departure

One could feel the tension in the Gem as Hearst walked in with the armed men, it was so palpable and oppressive it almost made it hard to breath. Seth stood fixed to the spot as they advanced, not knowing what would happen but ready for whatever it was. But the worst thing was that this wasn't a situation where he was just waiting for a reason to do the thing he wanted to. This was a situation where he had to do nothing. It was like when he was younger and he could sense a beating was coming but all he could do was keep out of his father's way, knowing that all that would do was postpone the inevitable. He hated that feeling, not being able to strike back waiting to be hurt. Sometimes he wondered it the anticipation wasn't worse than the actual pain. Terror and anger existed for a reason, to make you run or fight, when presented with danger humans weren't meant to do neither. These were the things that his instincts told him, but he couldn't listen to them now, he couldn't.

Dan watched Al ascend the stairs as he had done countless times in the past and hoped to do countless times in the future. He didn't care what Al had said. He heard anything, any noise at all coming from that room he would charge in and fight those cocksuckers with everything he had. 'Right or wrong' he thought 'you go with your feelings' and his feelings were telling him that if Al had to die for this he, Dan would die too and take as many with him as he could. He recalled his conversation with Trixie, which felt like it belonged to a different century not last year. They had talked about how they'd rather burn down the Gem than seen it compromised. Well what was it now if not compromised? A voice in his head (and Al's too he'd bet) was telling him to set light to the whole fucking town rather than letting Hearst just own the place. He didn't know if he could keep living in a Deadwood that didn't belong solely to itself, that was no longer the place he'd helped to build. He half hoped this would all come down to a battle and all the ambiguity would be blasted away if only for a short time.

Silas stood resigned. He'd do what Al said because it was the prudent thing to do. Thinking over the options again the course of action being followed was the only one to follow. Of course a lot of trouble might have been circumvented if the whore responsible for the actual shooting had been killed. But he could tell that for Al that was not an option and that anyone who tried it might run the risk of meeting the same fate themselves.

Meanwhile Mr. Blazanov stood with his ear pressed to the door of Al's office while Merrick paced back and fourth below.

"I can't hear anything, I cannot…eh…I don't know if they are not talking or if I cannot hear." Blazanov begun pacing as well "What did Mr. Swearengen mean about "going" for Mr. Hearst with his knife?" He walked down the stairs as the other man replied;

"My dear Mr. Blazanov if you think that Al tells me anything that is going on, _ever_, you misunderstand the nature of our relationship. But I suppose he is having some kind of negotiation now with Hearst that might break down and if it does he hopes to take the brunt of the man's fury and thus spare us all a battle that in all likelihood we will not be able to win." While he had been talking he begun rummaging around his printing equipment. Blazanov was about the respond but then he realized why his friend sounded so distracted and instinctively reached out and grabbed his arm.

"Mr. Merrick, if there is a fight. What do we do?" Merrick stopped what he was doing and looked at the Russian standing above him. Why did Mr. Blazanov have to get mixed up in this? This wasn't his fight or his town or even his country. He tried to choke back the rising outrage at this whole unfortunate mess and his whole unfortunate country that he had once had believed in so fervently. America shouldn't be like this, it should have more to offer people like his friend. The idea that the telegraph operator had come to these shores seeking a place where he was allowed to live his life and had merely wandered into another version of the same nightmare where the powerful were able to bend everyone and everything to their will made him sick. All he said was;

"I believe we have both been designated non combatants"

The telegraph operator smiled at his friend who always wanted to tell the decent truth.

"You have not answered my question."

"Oh my dear…my very dear friend" Merrick put his hand on his shoulder trying to be reassuring, even though the only thing he could thing to say certainly wasn't "I have no idea what to do"

In the office Al took out his knife with the utmost caution. Mentally as he opened the coffin he ran through all the ways that he could knife Hearst. But another thought interrupted the comforting familiar calculation. He'd said earlier that he would speak for the others once he got to heaven. If the worst happened what was waiting for him? Would he just stop being Al all of a sudden? The world ends when your dead he had always thought to himself but was there another one waiting? Would it be better? He supposed he had always deep down believe in Heaven and Hell but he'd always tried to keep that as buried as possible, knowing he'd find out a lot sooner if he thought too much about the right and wrong of things. He'd often wondered in his youth how Hell could possibly be worse than his life as it was. In fact many a freezing night in Chicago he'd thought about the prospect cheerfully because there at least he could count on being warm. Did he stand a chance of getting into Heaven? He tried to pull his thoughts back to the here and now but a sudden rush of emotion caught him as he thought about the prospect that he might just have seen everyone he knew for the last time. Fuck it; he was going to miss Trixie, Dan, Johnny, Adams and Jewel. Would they be all right with out him? Silas could probably survive anything but he wasn't so sure about Johnny or the gimp. For that matter what would become of Wu and Merrick, and the Doc…hell he even worried about that maniac bishop downstairs. He thought of Alma, he supposed she had the now ex Sheriff to look after her just as Trixie had her Jew but…he would have liked to have gotten to know her better, that was part of it…but he felt…he wasn't sure, just the idea of being eternally and absolutely separated from her struck him with a kind of despair. But now the danger had passed. Hearst had felt the blood on her neck without looking at her face. He never had and never would, in fact Al wondered if he ever really saw anyone. But he was leaving now and Al was alone with the corpse and the knowledge that he had one a battle but surrendered the war.

He walked out to meet Seth and Charlie who stood outside the office door. Charlie shouted to Hearst about the body, then reminded him of the other one in the jail cell. He didn't know what he wanted probably just for Hearst not to notice or to care, just to remind himself how sick the man really was. But his refusal to make any kind of denial about the second body brought back to Charlie the absolute injustice of the situation. Hearst could have said "Yeah I fucking killed him with my bare hands, fuck you what are you going to do about it?" and the answer would have been nothing. The world had changed so much in just a few years. He wanted so badly to go back, back before Bill had been shot back before amalgamation and capital had started to wreck havoc with everything, back when a man could settle his own business.

"Has she family ought be notified?" asked Seth

"I don't notify fucking family" spat Al.

"Especially not hers"

Al gave him the address of her sister. 'He thinks I don't care. That's good, let him think that, let him think I do this sort of thing for fun. Let him think I'll sleep easy tonight. It'll make them all feel better, just to let me be the bad guy. I'm so good at it.'

Sol walked down the stairs his gun heavy and awkward in his hand. He felt the wrongness as keenly as everyone else but he was relieved that it was done. Now the man himself was gone the battle was lost life could go on. They could focus on the town again and think about the future. Unlike the men in the Gem who worried about change Sol had plans for the future. He wondered if he'd ever persuade Trixie to marry him and they could share the house openly. When he had talked about taking care of Sophia he Of course he felt bad about the girl who had been killed he knew it wasn't fair, but he could not bring himself to even think the alternative. He loved Trixie too much to care about what was fair. "I won't be able to talk to Seth for a while after this". He knew that though his friend seemingly accepted the arrangement he would have rather seen Trixie dead rather than a girl who had done nothing. That and he and Trixie had never gotten along anyway, which was strange because they had so much in common. That was probably it. He'd often entertained a theory that people who were extremely different were in many ways better able to deal with each other. Those who were too similar simply saw their worst selves reflected back at them in stark relief. When he opened the door he found Trixie sitting in the dark, waiting, the suffering in her expression unmistakable. Suddenly the future seemed less clear to him, how do you ever live with the knowledge that someone else has died in your place?

As Hearst left the Gem the two men at the window of the Pioneer took notice. Merrick broke away from Blazanov and strode towards the door.

"Mr. Merrick what are you going to do?" the response Blazanov received only made him more nervous.

"I'm not afraid of that cocksucker and I won't let him leave without alerting him to that fact" It was the truth too, at this point he was simply too angry to feel any fear. The bitter disillusionment that had been brought on by the days events would eventually give way to despair, he'd been through this before, but now he was furious. But of course when he came within hearing distance all he could say was;

"I wonder if the other day you took my not publishing the news that you'd been shot for a failure to observe or better yet judge correctly that I thought suppressing the news would better serve the camp."

He almost wanted Hearst to hit him or yell at him or something, just to show that he'd noticed that the beating hadn't rendered him submissive. He knew what he'd just said wasn't much of an insult but he didn't know what else to do. For the first time in his life he didn't just want something to stop he wanted to hurt this man, to give some back. But of course that wasn't an option, he just had to stand there and listen as Hearst told him how futile any effort of his really was and was ever going to be.

Cy Tolliver stood on the roof of the Bella Union watching everyone down in the street. The stupid whore was bent over the stupid dope fiend. He heard over and over again that it was a tough thing to kill someone else at close range, to watch the life leave their eyes and the blood pump out. Ten years ago countless drunken veterans with lost looks in their eyes and the tattered remains of uniforms had reminisced on what it was like to kill someone else, how hard it was. Even after the blue and grey had ceased to signify victor or defeated the occasional drunk would try and corner him and reminisce, the occasional john would explain why he scared one of the girls by screaming bloody murder in his sleep. Hard? Horse shit. It had been easy, hell it had been fun, he'd been wanting to do that to Leon for a while but now his only regret was that he'd have to find someone else. But that might be good too, maybe his new dealer would be able to stay sober. His thoughts returned to the initial source of his irritation and he glared at Hearst as the man ascended his carriage. 'Motherfucker thinks he can just come into my damn town and tell me I'm managing his "non mining concerns"…I'll show that cocksucker, I'll show everyone…murders fucking Ellsworth, makes it clear that this camp doesn't stand a chance of being civilized and thinks he can get away with it…I'm going to fucking shoot him. I'll be the man who shot George Hearst.'

"If I'm quick about this Janine, maybe me and Mr. Hearst will get to hear the lord judge Leon." The prostitute looked up at him in terror as he pulled his gun out.

Seth stood on the boardwalk in front of the Gem unwilling to budge and inch. Even breathing was difficult since doing nothing was costing him every ounce of energy he possessed. He tried in vain to keep the image of his father out of his head. Of course it was at this moment Alma road past with Sofia in a mule cart. The sight of Alma would have been enough to distract him but Hearst just had to go and tip his fucking hat as if he hadn't just bullied her out of her gold claim, as if he hadn't humiliated her, as if he hadn't had her shot at, as if he hadn't murdered her husband in cold blood. Seth strode out towards him telling Charlie to stand back.

Cy aimed the pistol at Hearst's head, he had a clear shot and he was sure that the main street was within range of his firearm. This was it, he'd shoot Hearst then himself, this was it…but a voice in the back of his head piped up

'Cy, you know if you shoot him his people will raze the camp to the fucking ground'

'And don't I fucking know that? Why else would I shoot my fucking self?'

'What happens once you're dead Cy?" Now the voice sounded like Joanie.

'What do I fucking care?' he thought to himself, but all of a sudden he could no more pull the trigger than he could bring Leon back to life. He tried to keep saying to himself that it didn't fucking matter what happened, _he'd _be dead but he just couldn't do it. His impotent fury resolved in his grabbing Stupid and pointed his gun at her head. That's what he'd do, he'd shoot her then he'd kill himself and fucking end it.

Seth stared up at Hearst and simply stated exactly what was on his mind.

"You've looked at your last body. You're done tipping your hat here! Get out before I have to drag you out by your ear"

He knew this wasn't really an option, but he wanted the man to leave assured that he may own the mines but he sure as hell didn't own Deadwood.

Panic gripped Janine as she felt the cold gun barrel against her head. She'd been in dangerous places before but never like this, so completely at the mercy of a lunatic. As she begged she acted on instinct and pulled down he already revealing top to let her breasts hang out. It had always been her experience that men seemed to get distracted when they got a look at certain parts of a women's body. She and Cy stood there like that for what seemed to her like a century but was probably less than a minute before he removed the gun from her head.

Hearst finally departed leaving Seth and Charlie and Merrick and Blazanov standing in the street.

"Mr. Merrick, your statement had me worried. I thought you might do something…what was that word you used the other day? Injudicious. It is thanks to you that I am often told I speak better English than many Americans."

"That has nothing to do with me, you're very bright you'd probably learn quickly no matter who you talked to." Merrick sighed "Yes everyone had cause to be worried there…fuck it this is me we're talking about. I'm about as ineffectual as…I don't know what's the most useless stupid thing you can think of?"

"Do not talk like that" said the telegraph operator softly.

"Why shouldn't I? I won't even have a job soon. That man is going to have his people start another newspaper here."

"You did fucking good" Charlie was always quick to reassure

"I did fucking nothing" Seth responded not wanting reassurance. He stared across the thorough fare and saw Sol with Trixie. He was glad she was still alive, Sol deserved to be happy. He on the other hand, well he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight. He used to think he didn't swim in that shit and now he found himself drowning in it.

Up in his office Al had just resumed scrubbing the floor after a talk with Johnny. He hated doing this but a man cleaned up his own godamn messes. Al shook his head.

"Wants me to tell him something pretty."

JOHNNY

That there was the end of Chapter One. There'll be a Chapter Two along sometime soon.

SOL

We hoped that you liked it and that you review or favorite. Or if you didn't like it leave some constructive criticism!

TRIXIE

Wait, wasn't that just the end of "Tell Him Something Pretty" with a little extra dialogue and thoughts and things? And ain't fan fiction supposed to be its own story?

MARTHA

According to a sight called "Wikipedia" (which seems more reliable than those unfortunate schoolbooks I have to read the children) fan fiction is "a broadly-defined term for fan labor regarding stories about characters or settings written by fans of the original work, rather than by the original creator." So yes this counts, besides the next few chapters will be "original"

DAN

Well thanks for fuckin readin anyway!


	2. Chapter 2

MERRICK

Greetings ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to this next installment of "Something Pretty" a non-canonical narrative created by an enthusiast of the episodic series Deadwood produced for the "television" network, HBO.

AL

Or Deadwood fanfic to all you hoopleheads out there. Jesus Christ Merrick!

MERRICK

This chapter takes place directly after the last emission of the series "Tell Him Something Pretty" and the young lady who wrote this would like to reiterate that she is using the intellectual property of others as well as real people. This installment features many beloved personages from the program such as Al Swearengen, Seth Bullock, Sol Star, Trixie…um…excuse me Miss Trixie, I don't recall your last name

TRIXIE

Trixie the whore

MERRICK

Well, yes...quiet. Also making appearances are Mr. Blazanov…

AL

Do you not fucking know his first name? Aren't you two best friends?

MERRICK

That's just how we refer to each other. It will also feature E.B. Farnum, Lucretia Marchbanks, Richardson…my, this show does feature many beloved personages.

CY

What about me?

MERRICK

You, Mr. Tolliver are beloved by no one

DAN

Yeah I don't think the viewers'd stand you if you wasn't played by Powers Booth

MERRICK

Could we…um…keep actors out of this? I'd _really_ appreciate that.

JANE

Oh for fuck's sake! Here's Chapter 2, cocksuckers! If you don't like it you and every other human being on this earth can drink mare's piss!

MERRICK

Miss Canary! I think it highly inconsiderate to insult our readers like that.

AL

You do it all the time by writing things they can't fucking understand and makin' em feel like idiots

JACK

I say! The nerve of the man for suggesting that parsimony is a virtue. But now dear readers Chapter 2! My you be transported an enthralled!

SOL

Heck I'd settle for mildly entertained…also a vigorous handholding would be nice

Chapter 2

"What Now E.B.?"

E.B. stood on the veranda of his hotel surveying the town for the first time. He had simply stepped through the hole that Hearst had smashed and now he stood above them all like the powerful man who had just left. He had left, he had left…and he, E.B. Farnum, was still standing and unscathed. He had weathered the storm, physically intact. He could say less of his dignity but he had never had much of that to begin with. He strutted around a little just to see what it felt like and then looked over at the Gem. He saw a dejected looking Seth walk towards the entrance along with a dejected looking Merrick.

He shouted down "May I safely assume that we should not expect assistance from the Sheriff for the next few days?"

Seth whirled around and gave E.B. such a glare that he had to remind himself that there was a thoroughfare, a flight of stairs, and a door between them before his heart resumed beating.

"I ain't the fucking Sheriff 'round here anymore!" He then proceeded into the saloon.

E.B. decided that baiting the journalist would be a safer occupation

"I shall also dare to presume that there won't be another newspaper for the next few days or you'll fill an issue tomorrow with drunken rantings. Either way no one will know the difference!"

"Fuck you Farnum! Also you're through with your ill deserved tenure as Mayor of this town! So the joke is on you, you…cocksucker!" The pleasure he felt at the departure of Hearst and the unhappiness of the two men down below him (hell, just having people "down below" him was nice).

"The pleasantry, whatever it may is on the people of this town who have instead of trusting in experience been bought out by a tentacle of the vast Jewish conspiracy…"

"Do not say another word against Mr. Star, he alone is worth about fifteen hundred of you! You should have never had that job in the first place you…asshole!" Merrick was clearly having fun with new swearwords "I was a much more qualified candidate, I organized the fucking trail! No one noticed or said thank you..or…but no, I refused to put my hand up, I was too chicken shit to try that…well I am through shutting up and being nice and not causing any commotion because…" E.B. burst out laughing

"Shut up? When did you ever shut the fuck up. Don't get me wrong, it's the best idea you have ever had but…"

"Don't make me come up there E.B.!" At this E.B. proceeded to laugh so hard he was finding it difficult to breath

"Fine, don't make me go into the Gem and get Sher… "

Once again the constant pervasive fear that defined the life of E.B. Farnum returned to replace the temporary elation. It was a shame too, because recently he had had a sense of what it was like to think for himself, to resist (even in a small way) the sublimation to another will. It had been nice, to engage in that little act of defiance, to realize that he still had a spine back there, or maybe that he could grow a new one. He retreated back into the Grand Central, into the decimated room. He descended the familiar stairs only to enter a lobby that wasn't really his either. He scoured the dining area but saw no one and so proceeded to the kitchen.

Where on earth was Richardson these days? Where was anyone? He remembered the early days where he'd felt like the Hotel was the center of the town but now he felt so far away from everything and everyone. It had seemed as though they all had either lived there or spent most of their time in the dining room. But now; Bullock had his own house, Star had his own house, the widow Ellsworth (formerly the widow Garret) had her own house. Well people still had to come to the Grand Central to eat. But that was none of his concern, its surge in popularity was due to the Marchbanks woman. Then there was the new hotel in town, Shaughnessey's shit box taking customers away from his shit box. People weren't coming for his food…fuck it wasn't even his shit box they were coming to in order to get not his food. It had been his place then it was Hearst's place and now…he glared at Aunt Lou who was getting ready for the first of the lunch crowd, as the sickening thought had dawned on him that the Grand Central now belonged to this woman.

"What now E.B.?" He said aloud to the almost empty room, which offered him no answer.

Aunt Lou pretended not to have heard him. It seemed to her that people in this town had an odd habit of talking to either themselves or to inanimate objects. She laid out the plates and cutlery in the absence of Richardson. She wondered what was keeping him. She'd heard that newspaperman yell something about Farnum's loosing the election so she supposed it was over. Hopefully he hadn't gotten lost or confused. Lucretia Marchbanks had always felt the desire to care for others, as much as it irked her sometimes. She often wished that she was more separate from the role she played, colder, less maternal. But maybe that would make it all the more difficult to maintain her façade. Well she didn't have to act so hard anymore. She'd just have put on her little show for her guests and there she'd have the satisfaction of knowing that that was simply part and parcel of keeping a boarding house. Knowing that George Hearst was at this moment somewhere in the Black Hills putting more and more distance between himself and her made even breathing come easier. Though she knew that there were burdens she would never cease to carry (one did not simply go from property to person without difficulty) to be on her own and doing what she did best was a blessing. She had been packing just the other day when he had come in her room (unannounced as usual) and asked her to stay on in camp and take charge of the hotel

"I want as many of my people to manage as many institutions here as possible. I also believe that…I am giving this hotel to you Aunt Lou, this is yours."

"You don't need to do that Mr. Hearst"

"But I want to. I mean, you do like it here don't you?"

"Yes I sure do Mr. Hearst, but don't you want me to be a commin back to San Francisco with you?" She looked at him and realized 'He knows I know about Odell'

"Of course I'd like that very much but…I feel like you might like a fresh start"

'He's trying to say sorry' she thought 'He's trying to make up, he doesn't want me to have to be around him and pretend to like him anymore'

What she ended up saying was "Well if you think so Mr. Hearst. You always know best I suppose. You go on then and make sure to give my best to Ms. Phoebe" he walked to the door, then turned back as if to say something. Lucretia tightened her mouth against the desire to yell at him. But he left and that was that.

She took out her irritation on some herbs she'd just decided to add to the stew, chopping them up as finely as possible with more force than necessary to bring out the flavor. Fucking George Hearst goes on and on about how much he hated people and every place on earth, how he cared for nothing but "the color" but it wasn't true. The reason he hated Deadwood was that he felt everyone's hatred of him and worse for him, had no respect for him. She felt that very deep down he cared for her but also that he would cease to do so if she ever ceased to behave in her usual submissive manor. He would never allow people to come to him as themselves, they had to come in subjugation. But of course he hated those people just as much. If a man came crawling to him singing his praises George Hearst hated him even more than if he had approached him with insults. Any kind of weakness he despised but he could not abide strength in another. She often wondered how the spirited Phoebe managed. Maybe it was the fact that she had so many good uses to put her husband's money too that she must have devised a secret to maintaining his affection in order to finance all her projects.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the return of Richardson.

"Where you been?"

"I voted. Why didn't you vote?"

"I can't I'm a woman. Why'd it take you so long?" she asked as she added the mangled leaves to the stew.

"There was a line. It was long. I voted for Star for Mayor and Bullock for Sheriff.

"And here you have a typical Sol Star supporter. In fact here you see the beauty of democracy the vote of that mongrel creature unable to think and somehow recently learned to speak, if you call his loathsome noises speech, and stand upright counts as much as mine" said E.B. who'd come into the kitchen without either of them having noticed. Richardson let out a squeaking noise and put his hands in front of his face. E.B. advanced clearly with a view towards continuing to berate Richardson or go on a lengthy speech about the failure of democracy but Aunt Lou wasn't in the mood for it.

"Richardson why don't you go see if anyone's arrived for lunch yet? And Mr. Farnum I been meaning to ask you for a while. When was the last time you got your self new carpets in this place? I've noticed bloodstains all over them hallway carpets in addition to more mud and horseshit than I thought there was in the whole world let alone this town. I don't think cleaning 'em is gonna do the trick" Richardson promptly did as she'd asked while the other man stood with his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. She waited for a moment prepared for what was coming next, her response already prepared.

"Now I've had about as much as I'm going to take. How dare you come into my place…" she decided to tell him now and spare herself whatever insult was coming and launched right in;

"It ain't your hotel, this here place belongs to Mr. Hearst and he done said it now belongs to me. Of course I'd be honored if you'd stay on here but if you don't want to feel free to go. If you are gonna stay though I'd be mighty pleased if you did as I told you and earned your keep."

"If you think I'll allow my self to be bossed by some ni…"

"Alright, I'll just head over to that nice Russian fella's office and send Mr. Hearst a telegram that he'll get when he gets back to his home in San Francisco. So you can do as you like for a little while but when he gets that he'll send one right back to the head of his people here and…" Though normally the misfortune of others wasn't something she particularly enjoyed, she couldn't help savoring look of terror in E.B. Farnum's pale eyes.

"Do you understand me, motherfucker?" How nice it was to find a white man so disliked by his own that she could talk to him like this and no one would care, well not that she planned on doing it in public.

"Yes mam, I understand you perfectly. I'll take a look at the carpets, anything else I can do for you?"

"Now that's what I want to hear! I'll think about it. See now Mr. Farnum this is gonna work out real nice, ain't it?" And she began slicing bread, more cheerful than she'd been in months as the hotel's former owner scuttled off to do her bidding.

Sol and Trixie returned to the hardware and Sol opened the doors to welcome in commerce. Trixie just stood there looking around. He couldn't read her expression but experience with Seth taught him how to cope with rage and guilt. Never like this granted, but the principle was the same; that of trying to help an emotional tinderbox moving itself too quickly towards an open flame…not that tinderboxes moved on their own but the image had come into his head once with Seth and he found it made him feel a little better. His relationship with Seth, back when it had just been the two of them had been sort of like a marriage in many ways…or maybe it was that a marriage was like a business partnership, instead of building and maintaining a store you were trying to keep your lives turning a profit. Although he had taken his place at the register Trixie still stood in the middle of the room looking around at everything.

"Do you think all the results from the election are in?" He hated when people said that it 'wasn't the time for small talk' of course there were times it was inappropriate but talking about something was always preferable to glum silence.

"It's a pity that Seth probably won't win Sheriff but Harry Manning in charge won't be the end of the world. Besides with Steve the Drunk out for the count I think we might see a decrease in the amount of angry mobs that need subduing." Trixie still stared around at the various pans, axes, and picks without speaking.

"What do you think of the general opinion in the camp? I mean I don't think it would be a display of hubris on my part to think myself more respected than Farnum but he does have what might be termed "The Goy Advantage" Still Trixie said nothing. Sol was casting around for what to say when a prospector, who mysteriously managed to keep buying tools despite his gold claims total lack of gold, came in and started complaining about a pair of boots.

"Trixie? Could you do me a favor and go over to Mr. Blazanov the telegraph operator and ask him if he knows how the election for mayor is going?" She nodded and left.

"I would like to propose a toast!"

"Shut up and drink Merrick"

"Well if you do not wish to, Dan, may I buy you a drink so you may join me?" Dan could tell this was going to be a long day.

"Sure thing, that's…uh…that's awful nice of you" As a bartender he was exceedingly accustomed to listening to drunks going on and on but Merrick had them all beat. One time when trade was slow he and Johnny had bet on how long Merrick could talk continuously when prompted. They had had to abandon the project after several hours when he showed no sign of stopping.

"I once felt that there were two ways for a man to live; either in fear or in faith. I always endeavored (sometimes with difficulty) to choose faith. Now I believe that to have been a false dichotomy. I forgot about one great organizing principle that I ought to grow up and accept: resentment. Gentlemen we live in resentment" Merrick failed to notice Seth glaring at him.

"Is that really a toast?" Asked Dan

"No not really…let me see…"

"Here's to seeing the back of George Hearst. Lest we forget that a fucking defeat means the end of the fucking war" Al had come up behind the two at the bar while the newspaperman had been fumbling for a toast. Dan poured him a shot and they all drank.

"Didn't I hear you yelling something about the hardware Jew beating E.B., Merrick?"

"Well yes but all the results are in…I…I acted rashly just there."

"Lets toast him anyways. I want an excuse to take a fucking second shot" was Al's answer. They all drank to Sol, all the while Al was thinking 'What the fuck am I going to do about these two?' he supposed for now he'd go back to cleaning up the bloodstain. He excused himself from the others. In a couple of hours he'd come back. It was Bullock he really worried about. Al had observed that Merrick's benders didn't usually last more than a couple of fucking days, three at most after which he'd swear off the stuff altogether…until his next disappointment of course. Al wondered if the man were really capable of realizing when he was on the edge of the precipice and pulling back or if it was that merely after a few days (drunk or sober) he came the conclusion that life goes on and his tenacious optimism reasserted itself. No, it was Bullock he worried about 'I've been worrying about Bullock a lot these past couple of years'. It wasn't about the camp anymore, it was about the young man himself, it was almost like Seth was his kid. God what a thought, Al was glad he kept a bottle in his desk.

Downstairs Bullock and Merrick had settled down into mutual silence and drowning of their frustration when Trixie walked in. Merrick stood up straight and tried to remove his hat, only to then grasp the fact that he had already removed it. Trixie eyed both of them.

"So what are you two cocksuckers doing? Standin' round feelin' sorry for yourselves I suppose."

"Al's upstairs. You want a drink?" Dan queried, hoping to hurry her to her purpose.

"No I don't fucking want to see Al, but I would like a fucking drink" as Dan poured it

and Trixie downed it as she looked around the saloon 'I don't feel at home either' she thought. 'I don't belong in that fucking hardware store, but I don't belong here neither' She gave the two men drinking dirty looks one of which was returned the other caused its recipient to turn away with a mixture of fear and embarrassment. She then walked over to the telegraph office and before the telegraph operator had time to ask her her business she blurted out;

"Do you want a quick blowjob?"

Mr. Blazanov wasn't sure what to say to that.

MERRICK

That concludes this particular episode, there will be another one along shortly. Al, I have the distinct impression that "Florence of Arabia" is not a real name

AL

And you'd be right, it's a fucking nickname

JANE

Like "Calamity Jane" or "Wild Bill"

CHARLIE

Or Colorado Charlie

EVERYONE

Who?

JOANIE

Anyhow that was Chapter Two…

RICHARDSON

It was purdy

JEWELL

We appreciate you takin' time out of your busy day to read it

BLAZANOV

Cheyenne and Black Hills Telegraph Company! Message for the readers: The author would very much appreciate your reviews. Thank you!


	3. Chapter 3

SOL

Hello everyone, I'd just like to introduce this installment of "Something Pretty" a Deadwood fanfic. The author would like to apologize to those of you out there following this story for the long delay…

AL

Yeah right, like anyone out there's been cursing their computers for lack of a new installment. Loopy cunts' getting a bit…

DOC

Al have you ever thought insulting the girl who writes this as often as you do might be dangerous? She does have control over you, what if she decides to give you kidney stones again

AL

Shit! I mean pray break not my balls oh mistress of the fucking universe! I am thy humble servant Albert Swearengen.

TRIXIE

You can't tell from the writing but that was said with biting sarcasm

DAN

If y'all keep leaning on the fourth wall like this you're gonna break it

CHARLIE

What fourth wall?

SOL

Anyway what with finals and the holidays she's been tied up until know and she's happy if you're still reading.

HEARST

So anyways…

SETH

Hey get out of here! This is our town

HEARST

I'm a character too!

AL

You don't even appear in this fucking fanfic!

HEARST

Yes but my presence is…

EVERYONE

Get out!

HEARST

You haven't seen the last of me!

ALMA

Without further interruption may I present to you Chapter 4, we all thank you so very much for reading

JOHNNY

What are finals?

Chapter 3

Stand It Like A Man…And Give Some Back

Joanie lay there with Jane staring up at the ceiling. She wondered if she shouldn't change into her dressing gown since she didn't plan on going out anymore today. What would she go out to do? What was there to do? She buried her face in the bear fur trying to get closer to Jane to fight that familiar feeling. She had found some happiness she told herself, that fresh start that she'd been looking for. But that feeling was creeping back into her consciousness. It was that flat sad feeling, that made joy so fleeting and getting out of bed in the morning a daily calculation of whether or not life was worth living. She imagined sometimes that it must be what drowning feels like, being able to see light and air somewhere above you but unable to break the surface only to succumb to the pressure.

Something Cy had said came floating back to her, about how lack of gainful employment was what resulted in a gun to one's head. Though she knew his goal had been to persuade her to return to the Bella Union it had the ring of truth about it. Knowing what to do every day, having little things to occupy your mind and body, going to bed tired and falling asleep before your mind had time to bring up anything from the past that you wanted to keep buried. But what could she do? She didn't want to run women anymore, that was all she knew. She tried to think of other options. She had so loved being around those children, helping to tend their garden and the schoolhouse. For once in her life she had felt what it was like to do something, to be part of something that was really unquestionably good. And Mrs. Bullock had been so kind…but what was the point in thinking about it? What could she do exactly? Mrs. Bullock already cared for those children, as did their families, which was as it should be. She wasn't fit to be around those innocents, she wasn't a nice respectable lady. She was deviant who ran women, who'd slept with her father and sisters, sold for sixteen bucks and not worth much more than that. No, she couldn't have any kind of job having to do with the children. But she needed to do something, she couldn't just drift anymore. But of course that brought her back full circle to the question of what was there to do. She got up from the bed and knelt on the bare wood floor clasping her hands like she'd done as a girl. She'd used to do this every night until she'd given up figuring that there was no point continuing a conversation with someone who wasn't listening. These days she'd come to thinking that maybe he heard but didn't feel like answering her.

"Lord" she said aloud "I don't know if you forgive me my sins when I pray to you. But I feel that if you figured me for damned I'd have blown my brains out a while ago. I also am of the opinion that if you found me a sinner still you wouldn't have given me a good friend like Charlie or let me help at the schoolhouse or given me the courage to talk to Cy like I did that night. Most importantly if my feelings for women so displeased you why'd you send me Jane? Lord when I'm with her…when I lie with her, when I kiss her…well I feel…happy. I don't know if I deserve that and sometimes it scares me a little. I'm so used to misery, it's been so close to me all these years that whenever I start to feel happy…well it's a little frightening sometimes. Lord I suppose what I'm getting at is that I don't know what is next for me but I know I will…I suppose what I'm trying to say is that I trust you. I trust you to provide a path for me…and…Lord…I never know how to end a prayer…well Amen then" Joanie got up and begin undressing.

Alma lifted Sofia down from the cart and thanked and tipped the driver. She then picked up the little girl and carried her up the stairs. Not that she really needed to, but she felt comforted by drawing her daughter close. Alma fumbled out the key and fitted it into the lock. This house just felt like home, so did the town. This house belonged to her; it was completely hers. She'd gotten so used to living in other peoples buildings (homes or hotels) that to have a house that she had paid for gave her a new sense of assurance.

What she was doing was of course painfully obvious to her, going through all the pros, all the things she liked about staying in Deadwood to convince her that she had something to show for her sacrifice. She knew she had made the right decision, that capitulation was the best thing to have done, anything else would have been obscenely selfish. But why, why was it always down to her? Why did she have to marry someone she could barely stand to keep her father out of debt? Why did she have to give up the man she loved for the sake of his family? Why did she have to marry another man she didn't love (who she'd liked quiet a bit which was actually worse) for the sake of her child and of Martha Bullock who would never know or appreciate the things she'd done? And now why did she have to give up her claim in order that the town continue in peace? Why for everything she'd gained did she have to pay a price? Why was doing the right thing never simple even when it was clear what it was? She knew that these thoughts were pointless, life was not fair and that was just something to be accepted. But it was the injustice of the thing that stung… and while she was being honest her pride was wounded. Humility ill suited her, it was a fault of hers and she knew it. Laudanum had made submission and docility, so contrary to her nature, easier to handle.

Lost in her own thoughts she realized that Sofia had started crying.

"Sofia…" she asked tentatively "were you glad to have seen Mr. Ellsworth? I know it must have been sad to see him like that but…was it good to say goodbye?" The child nodded through her tears. Alma held her daughter tighter wishing she could somehow absorb some of her grief, make it easier for her.

"The other thing is, my dear, there are lots of people here who love you very much. Mr. Bullock, Miss Stubbs, Miss Canary, Mr. Udder and…and your teacher Mrs. Bullock. Many people here care about you Sofia, don't ever forget that."

Mr. Bullock, suddenly she realized that he had not factored in her decision to stay. Months ago that might have been the first thing she thought of but something had changed something in the nature of her affections…she returned her attentions to her daughter not sure she wanted, or could follow this thought to its logical conclusion at the moment.

"Sweetheart you know…you know that your…your reel family" Alma said reel grudgingly "They didn't leave you. This is hard to hear but…they were killed. I'm sorry to have to tell you this but I, I want you to know that your family…your father and your reel mother…they loved you, they loved you very much and would have never abandoned you. They're in heaven now and they are watching over you along with Mr. Ellsworth. Do you understand?"

She pulled away from the child and looked her in the face to see how she was taking it. At first she thought she had made a mistake, but then Sofia looked back at her and said simply;

"You are my real mother"

In his bedroom at the Bella Union Cy Tolliver also lay staring up at the ceiling. He had taken his anger out on a still bloody Janine, who was now washing up. His lust was satisfied, but then again it wasn't what was bothering him in the first place. The anger he felt at his own ineffectuality was a constant throb, corrupting and overriding every other thought or sensation that tried to take root in him. Killing someone, well he'd tried that. Sex, he'd tried that too. He got up;

"Hey stupid! What the hell are you still doing up here?"

"I've got blood all over me" Answered the girl in a sad hollow voice

"Then how come you ain't fainted or started screaming on me?"

"I'm no stranger to blood, I hate it though." Her gaze was ambiguous as always but Cy heard the accusation that would have been there even if he hadn't been looking for it. He strode across the room and grabbed her. Janine tried to wriggle loose but he slapped her across the face, than slammed her against the wall.

"You better change your tone you dirty little bitch! Or it's going to be your blood someone's going to have to wash out of their panties. You're fucking lucky you're brains ain't decorating the veranda at the moment. Aren't you now?"

"Yes Mr. Tolliver, thank you Mr. Tolliver" Whimpered Janine.

"Now that's what I like to hear" he let her go and marched downstairs, his rage seeking out a new target. Janine curled up in a ball on the floor where Cy had left her and began to cry; the fear, the pain in her snatch, the blood and the senselessness of it all finally overwhelming her.

"Just you wait Cy Tolliver, you won't have me to push around much longer. I'm getting out of here. I won't stay around until you get mad and decide to kill me."

Downstairs the cause of much of Janine's misery fixed on another girl. Lila was lying on the sofa, drifting somewhere near consciousness. A client was eyeing her quizzically to see if he might cop a free feel without anyone noticing. Cy hissed at him to get out and dragged Lila to her feet.

"Remind me why I keep you again?"

When she didn't answer he continued.

"You better come up with an answer quick because all I ever see you doing is lying around. Now I want you out of my fucking joint!"

Cy took her by the arm and marched her out the door where he threw her out only to watch her crumple on the boards outside. She didn't try to get up and he kicked her down again.

"Just kill me then" Lila moaned in response

"Oh, don't think I fucking won't!"

A little bewildered by his conversation with Trixie, Blazanov decided to go for a walk. He felt odd walking alone but instinct told him to leave Merrick alone for the moment. In his experience men, even one as gentle as Merrick, did not take kindly to being pulled away from the bar when they were in a bad mood and the newspaperman was in a worst mood he'd ever seen him in. He'd been more cheerful with his ribs broken. Blazanov had never had a friend like this before, never had someone who he didn't like to be apart from for even a little while. Granted he hadn't had many friends to compare him to, he moved around too much to build real bonds with people. He hoped he'd be able to stay in Deadwood for a long time.

He wondered if it hadn't been a mistake not to take the woman who worked at the bank up on her offer of a free blowjob. He was glad that he lived next door to a whorehouse, otherwise he might never have acquired the necessary English terms for various sexual acts. He supposed that he had been partially taken off guard and partly been a little afraid of Trixie. Though in the past he had made the decision that he did not want to pay for women, but earlier that day it had crossed his mind that if things had gone badly he might have died a virgin. This might not have been so shameful as an adolescent, if he had stayed at home and died with his family, but now he was approaching forty without having known a woman. He wanted very badly to fall in love, to find someone with whom he could spend the rest of his life, but he worried that he was running out of time. He supposed if he was going to get anywhere at all he would have to bite the bullet and pay for it, even if it did lack romance or gravitas.

He was brought back to his immediate reality by a commotion outside of the Bella Union, which he had just passed. He turned around to see Cy Tolliver throwing a dark haired girl out of his saloon then pulling a knife out of his belt. Blazanov rushed toward the two figures without thinking and grabbed Tolliver's arm. He wasn't really a match for the saloonkeeper and he knew nothing about fighting, but he had caught him off guard for the moment. Blazanov tried to get the knife out of his hand but Tolliver had regained his composure, pulled free and socked him on the jaw. It was an impressive blow and knocked the telegraph operator to the ground. He barely had time to realize that he was down when the other man began kicking him viciously and without mercy. Blazanov couldn't think or move, the blows came too quick and the pain was too intense, but just as suddenly it all stopped.

Al had taken a break from scrubbing the stain that he knew would never really come clean. He went out on the deck of the Gem and looked out over the camp. A flash of movement caught his eye over at the Bella Union and a closer look revealed the Russian telegraph operator in a tussle with Cy Tolliver.

'Shit, that's all I need. Now I have to fucking deal with this too.' Out loud he yelled "Bullock! The fucking Russian's getting the shit kicked out of him by Tolliver!" He waited a couple of minutes before a bareheaded Bullock came striding out of the saloon, followed by Merrick at an much more awkward gait. Al headed back into the Gem and looked down at Dan.

"Bullock ain't the fucking sheriff anymore"

"Sure he is Dan, the election ain't completely over. Besides, you think tin or lack thereof will get in between that insane fucking person and helping some poor fuck?"

Cy Tolliver was about to land another kick on Blazanov when a familiar voice commanded him to leave the man alone. Cy turned to face Bullock whose hand hovered menacingly over his gun, which still rested at his hip. Somewhere in the back of his head Tolliver knew he should slink back into the Bella Union and that would be the end of it, but his dominant instinct didn't want this fight to be over. He was also savoring the faces of the two men facing him. As amusing as it was to wind Bullock in righteous fury, Merrick's disgusted anger was absolutely priceless. Cy began chuckling at the two of them.

"Well look who it fucking is. Don't think you should be walking around with that badge Bullock, might give people the wrong impression. Sure you could shoot me but then the real sheriff would have to arrest you."

"Leave him the fuck alone, Tolliver" Bullock said breathing rage in every syllable

"Hey, he fucking started it"

"He was going to kill her" gasped Blazanov

"You son of a bitch!" Snarled Merrick

"Exactly" said Tolliver "It was none of his fucking business" and he casually kicked the telegraph operator again causing him to yelp with pain.

At this point Merrick did something that surprised the other men and ultimately, himself. He grabbed the gun out of Seth's holster and walked up to Tolliver who turned away from his victim only to catch a pistol butt in the face. He swayed but Merrick grabbed his shirt collar and hit him again with the gun, and then again.

"You like this? Do you like this Tolliver? It's fine when you do it to other people but when it comes to you well it fucking hurts doesn't it? Everything's fun until it happens to you isn't it?"

"Merrick, stop it!" Seth couldn't believe he was saying this

"Merrick, stop it! You'll fucking kill him!"

This seemed to do the trick. The journalist dropped the gun and then slowly, as if coming out of a trance, looked at the man he had just assaulted. He stared in horror at the blood that was trickling down onto his wrist.

"Oh god what have I done? What…what have I become?"

AL

What indeed?

SETH

If its any consolation Merrick, I know exactly how you feel

MERRICK

Thank you, Mr. Bullock. That means a lot to me.

SOL

All of us here hoped you enjoyed it and that you favorite or review it.

DOLLY

I mean, that would be nice, you don't have to if you don't want to

CY

Oh you do! Because I've got some choice words for anyone who reads this but doesn't review it or fucking favorite it…

SETH

Well I think you'd best keep those to yourself then

SOFIA

Thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

DOC COHRAN

Greetings to those of you fond of Deadwood and allow me to introduce Chapter 4 of Something Pretty. I'm also wondering why this is the first time I've showed up seeing as I am the fucking Ensemble Dark horse!

AL

You? This whole fucking show changed to accommodate me that the fucking protagonist! If you watch the first episode its pretty fucking clear that this show was supposed to be about Seth until everyone decided that they liked me better.

AUNT LOU

You know compared to the amount of screen time he gets Richardson is pretty damn popular

ADAMS

What about me?

JACK

I do hate to blow my own horn here as it were…

SETH

Break it up everyone! There are too many popular characters on this fucking show to pick a dark horse.

AL

Yes lets just all agree that everyone finds the theater troupe (except Jack) to be really fucking annoying

CLAUDIA

Hey!

DAN

Al's just telling it like it is

ALMA

Lest we forget Steve, everybody hates him

TRIXIE

No offense Alma but you got a pretty little hate club goin' yourself, you got a fan club for sure but…

ALMA

I do?

JANE

A whole bunch of people seem to find me really fucking irritating.

ALMA

I have just consulted Television Without Pity and feel my "hatedom" (as I believe it is called) to be based on a double standard. Why do I get judged more harshly than the men who are constantly killing each other?

CON

I feel I would be better liked if it had not been for the decision to give me "sexy scenes" in Season Three

TRIXIE

No one wanted to see those

JACK

Tis the circuitous logic by which HBO offers programming filled with erotic content that often makes the viewer want to take a vow of celibacy

AL

Lets fucking focus people! So without further fucking ado welcome to Chapter Four of…Hey, random theater cocksucker, are you crying?

THEATER GUY

No! There's…uh… something in my eye

AL

You're pathetic. Chapter fucking Four people, here it is. Read, enjoy and fucking review!

Chapter 4

One Vile Task After Another

Martha Bullock walked quickly from the schoolhouse to her own home, glad that her husband hadn't come to pick her up. She was pleased with the progress that the children had been making but she'd lost her patience with those textbooks Even once she'd crossed out the bits she found offensive ('Indians can sometimes be very cruel' indeed, and whites were paragons of kindness and generosity) those textbooks were still ten years old and falling apart, not to mention limited. There was so much more that they could be learning…but then again she couldn't get too ambitious. After all these children all had different levels of intellect and education. Some of them didn't speak English at home. But she couldn't stop herself from getting excited and making plans. Ever since becoming schoolmistress she had begun, bit by bit to come alive to the possibilities embodied by these children. This in part had prompted her to order new textbooks, she'd check with Mr. Udder about them soon.

She hoped Seth didn't mind the expense, but it would be nice if they could get some money from the town elders or council. Maybe if Mr. Star became mayor he could have some kind of system to take care of public funds. She'd ask Seth, then Mr. Star. She was sure that Mr. Udder and the man from the newspaper would see that as an appropriate use of camp money. Also Mr. Nutall, but thinking about him dampened her spirits somewhat, poor Mr. Nutall. Martha wasn't sure about that very sinister saloon owner or Mr. Swearengen. She wished that Mr. Swearengen might come around a little more so she could hear what he and her husband talked about, or just get more of an idea of his character, for he was an enigma to her.

A stranger greeted her with a polite "Afternoon ma'am" which she returned. This made her feel a little self conscious. She wondered if people were looking at her and wondering why she was alone. If she were a prostitute, or almost any manner of man she could pass unnoticed, but a proper lady commanded attention. She had always found it interesting how the men had such different rules for how they conducted themselves around ladies and around the women who worked at the saloons, as if they were two separate genders.

She reached her house now and let herself in. She got out the broom and swept up a little, then put out a kettle and cups and saucers for either tea or coffee. She supposed she ought to put on her dressing gown as the doctor would be hear at any minute.

Doc Cochran was preparing to go over to the Bullock house when there was a knock on his door. He opened it to find Bullock himself and a roughed up looking Cy Tolliver trying to stem the flow of blood from his broken nose.

"Hey Doc, are you busy or can you see to him?"

The doctor could tell from Seth's words that he knew nothing of his appointment with Mrs. Bullock, so he decided to keep his mouth shut. Though he'd rather go help Martha and let Cy shift for himself but he knew he couldn't.

"Sure, sure. Umm…" Those few words set off a bout of coughing and he had to wait until it was over to ask "Did you do this?"

"Yes" Cy blurted out

"There's no point lying about it Tolliver. Everyone saw."

"Shhhiiiiiiittt" groaned Cy

The doctor looked between the two in confusion.

"Saw what? Wait was it Trixie? Because if you're embarrassed about being beaten by a woman, she's…"

"No this is more embarrassing. It was Merrick, he gave him one hell of a pistol whipping back there" Seth smirked as he said this

"Merrick? We aren't talking about the Merrick that runs the newspaper here, are we?"

"Well the one I'm talking about is around 6'5" and a redhead, impossible to miss. But if you know another person in camp who answers to that description…"

Cy glared at both of them "Stop it both of you. You two think this is fucking funny? My fucking busted nose is a source of great amusement…"

"Well that would be entertaining on its own but the fact that it was Merrick who busted it makes it fucking hilarious." Seth knew he was going a little too far, but he was already feeling better to see Tolliver finally getting a bit of what he deserved. Doc Cochran begun to clean and dress the wounds, which only added to the intensity of the saloon keeper's glare.

"Hey Bullock, once you've finished your fucking chuckle why don't you go arrest that sack of shit newspaperman?"

"I'd love to but as you so astutely pointed out earlier, I am no longer the Sheriff. You'll want to take it up with Harry Manning." Seth turned on his heel and left but as he opened the door he turned around "Oh and Doc, once you're done you're needed at Blazanov's office. He might have couple broken ribs."

The doctor went about setting Cy's nose

"Mr. Blazanov's bein' injured wouldn't have anything to do with Merrick behaving in such an uncharacteristically aggressive manner would it Cy?"

"So I kicked his little Russian girlfriend around a little, what makes him think he can get away with pulling shit like this?" Cochran had to cough again before he answered

"He wasn't thinking, or rather he was thinking that you'd hurt someone that he cared about. Also you talk like a man who's never had any friends."

"I don't have fucking time for 'friends', if you think that's a fucking insult…"

"No just a statement of fact…"

"I don't want 'friends', I want to make that really fucking clear. Of course if I wanted I could, but I don't. I don't care about being liked, in fact I don't want to be liked. Because if people like you they don't fear you and so they fuck you up the ass…"

The doctor rolled his eyes and picked out a spare bottle of laudanum and handed it to Cy.

"I'll add this to your bill at the end of the month."

"Great, I have to fucking pay for this too. Once I get my hands on that fat bastard I'm going to gut him like a fish"

"Yeah go ahead Cy, if you think this stupid cluster fuck (which is your own damn fault by the way) justifies a war with Al, be my guest. Merrick's under his protection and Al would not appreciate you fucking with one of his. Actually he might already have it in for you on account of the telegraph operator who I have to go and see now"

The Doc was sure he was exaggerating here but as much as he disliked the newspaperman he would rather his intestines stayed inside his body. Also he had been significantly less irritating of late. He left Tolliver to mutter to himself and headed over to the telegraph office where he found a miserable looking Blazanov on his bed with Merrick and Lila (the prostitute from the Bella Union) hovering with obvious concern. They both rushed over when he entered and begun to talk at the same time.

"Doctor it was all my fault…"

"I'm so glad you're here! I would have gone myself but Mr. Bullock said…"

"I didn't really see how many times Mr. Tolliver kicked him or where…"

"I had some laudanum left over but…"

"But he didn't want to take it because he thought that it might make it difficult for you to examine him properly…"

Doc Cochran held up his hands to silence both of them.

"Yes, it would hamper my seeing to him…"

"How's the patient Doc?" They all looked up to see Al who had entered through the connecting door.

"Well" answered Cochran with a practiced tone of exasperation "I wouldn't know. I've been too tied up with these two to look at him."

He turned and knelt down to examine Blazanov while Merrick and Lila both begun to apologize profusely. As Al descended the stairs he got a better look at Lila and yelled "Hey, fucknuts, why is there a Bella Union whore here? If you two ever decide to get it up you fuck at the Gem! For Christ's sakes Blazanov that offer for free blowjobs still fucking stands. Also don't buy their line about how their girls are cleaner…"

"They are" muttered Cochran

"She's just here to make sure Mr. Blazanov is alright, since he was so conscientious as to assist her in her altercation with Mr. Tolliver." Clarified Merrick

"Yeah, speaking of that…" said Al before punching the taller man in the arm "That was fucking fantastic. I always knew you had it in you. You stood it like a man and now you've given some back"

Merrick winced as if burnt and not just because of Al's blow

"Well I certainly didn't. My god Al I've never wanted to hurt anyone in my life and all of a sudden that Hearst shows up in town and now look what's happened to me! I know one thing for sure, I will never touch spirits as long as I live"

Al threw back his head and laughed "Yeah worked real fucking well the last few times you've said that."

"Well I mean it this time!" He sighed "I should apologize to Tolliver. Will he be alright Doc?"

Cochran rolled his eyes "Yeah he'll be fine, if he doesn't mess with his wounds to try and get sympathy…again. Also Merrick you ought to secure a firearm or something. Tolliver threatened to eviscerate you." After saying this he broke into coughing.

"Like fuck he will!"

"I told him you wouldn't be pleased Al."

"All the more reason for me to go over and talk to him" piped up Merrick "In my experience people are so unaccustomed to hearing others admit their wrongs and offer to make amends that they are surprised and their hostility somewhat mollified" He smiled at everyone as if expecting them all to see the logic of this. Instead his friend and his physician were looking at him as if he'd just suggested that one of Wu's pigs should replace E.B. as mayor as opposed to Sol Star. Lila was a little kinder

"Um…Mr. Merrick, I'm sure a lot of people are like that, but…not Mr. Tolliver."

Doc Cochran stood up and had another coughing fit before closing his case. "He's got one broken rib and one cracked one. There are a good few bruises. Now deep pulls on the laudanum for the pain and please for the love of God finish this bottle… and don't listen to anything your idiot friend says. He knows nothing about medicine" He turned and left shaking his head as he went.

Al beckoned Merrick to follow him and the two ascended the stairs to Al's office.

"So, you still want to apologize to Tolliver?" Sneered Al

"What he did was unforgivable but what I did was as well" Suddenly Al was angry

"So what you're saying is that you hold yourself to a different fucking standard than the rest of us. Is that what you're saying?"

"I…I'm saying that I poses a different ethical code as does everyone and…not that my code is better…but yes I hold myself to a different standard because…" Al didn't really want to hear it

"Was it unforgivable of Bullock to beat Mrs. Ellsworth's conniving father who was going to sell her up the river, maybe see her hanged, senseless? Was it unforgivable of Charlie Udder to kick the shit out of that Wolcott cocksucker who murdered those poor girls? Was it un-fucking-forgivable of me to kill that Pinkerton shitheel who beat you?"

"I'm still alive." Merrick said very, very softly.

"FUCK YOU! The problem with cocksuckers like you is that you think there's some fucking justice in this world. You'd think differently if someone had taken the time to beat the trust out of you when you were young and so you've been carrying around this stupid fucking childish worldview. Well life isn't fair! Shit happens then you die. Is it fair that Hearst gets to bump off Ellsworth, buy up the fucking town, and cut off my goddamn finger? No it fucking isn't but that's what happens. Is it fair that poor fucking Jen had to die because of Trixie's fuckup? Is it fair that Hearst gets to ask for a woman's life and I have to give it to prevent us all being fucking killed? No none of that is fair but that is how it is! Now tell me what a fucking monster I am for killing her…come on! It was unforgivable wasn't it to kill an innocent girl?"

"Jen's dead?"

"What did I just say, you stupid bastard?" Al didn't know why he was doing this, he supposed that the more he justified it to others the better he was at doing it to himself. He wanted Merrick to get angry, to judge him, so that he could come back and tell him that he had no right to talk, that Merrick got to hold his nose up because Al prevented him from having to get his hands dirty.

"Al, I'm sorry"

"THAT'S ALL YOU CAN SAY?"

"I'm sorry that such choices fall to you. I don't envy you the burdens you have had to bear nor the actions you have had to undertake to survive …"

"Don't you dare fucking pity me!" Al shouted. At that moment his hand was resting on a book that held down a stack of papers in place of a paperweight. Without thinking he picked it up and hurled it at Merrick's head. The journalist let out a sound that was an uneasy hybrid of a shout and a squeak but then silence fell for several minutes. Al instantly regretted his action but said nothing as Merrick stooped to pick up the book then touched his head to feel the trickle of blood that had begun to run from the cut that the book had left. When Al finally met his gaze there was no look of reproach in those sad blue eyes.

"I'm…" He couldn't say it. it was like passing the kidney stones so he didn't try "Lost my fucking temper. You drink and fuck on the house tonight" The other man wasn't really having any of it.

"I'm sorry that you had to do that, but Al…its sad. Its so very sad."

"Yeah…yeah it's fucking sad" and with saying that Al felt the weight bearing down on his chest shift and lessen slightly.

Martha Bullock's face betrayed how uncomfortable she was with the doctor's examination. He wished he knew of some way to make her feel better about the places his fingers were going. He was so used now to prostitutes who had given up seeing their bodies as in anyway belonging to themselves it was jarring to look at a woman who wished to remain covered and secret and to know that only a few other men (husbands and physicians) had seen her like this before. He tried to give her a cheerful smile as he concluded his business but he was sure it came off as a grimace.

"Would you mind adjourning to the kitchen so that I may dress Doctor Cochran? I've prepared some tea for you." Asked Martha rather shyly

"Of course Mrs. Bullock, thank you…Thank you very much."

He did as she asked and waited downstairs standing awkwardly by the kitchen table. He didn't know how she would react to this news. Martha Bullock was a woman who came off as cold to some but Cochran had seen her by her dying son's beside. She was a woman who had accustomed herself to the danger and uncertainty of military life and to the knowledge that her husband could be taken from her at any time, as he had been. She was a kind woman but one who felt the harshness of the world and tried to hold herself hard against it.

Martha came down the stairs, still as uncomfortable with her physician as he was with her.

"So, what was your opinion…am I…correct in my suspicions?" She quickly began to busy herself with the tea so that she and Cochran wouldn't have to look at each other while he answered.

"Yes, it is as you thought. You're with child"

AL

Bullock, what is it with you and knocking up women?

SETH

She's my wife!

JOHNNY

Well there you have it, that was Part Four. Which featured Cy/Doc, Doc/Martha, Al/Merrick

DAN

Johnny…um that ain't "slash"

JOHNNY

What? Those were the people talking mainly. That last scene was with Doc and Mrs. Bullock. Doc/Martha

DOC

That's really not what "slash" means

SETH

Though, I am intrigued by Al/Merrick, I feel like that should…

AL

Bullock, I refrained from stabbing you once. This time you won't be so lucky. Besides, might piss off Merrinov shippers.

E. B.

There are such people?

BLAZANOV

This conversation is becoming not comfortable

AL

Of course I'd be more worried about those that step aboard Al/Alma or Al/Jack ships

DOC

Not to mention Al/Seth

SETH

Fuck, is that a thing?

MARTHA

Well we hope you have enjoyed this latest effort and will continue to read "Something Pretty"

JOANIE

Also we'd appreciate you Following and Favoriteing and the like

WU

Swedgin! FanFiction! Cocksucka!


	5. Chapter 5

ALMA

Hello fan fiction aficionados! We here in Deadwood would all like to thank you for continuing to read Something Pretty. Of course our temporary writer Miss Florence of Arabia is most grateful to you as well.

MERRICK

I still find that name odd

JACK

I believe it is a reference to a figure and a film that are both after our time

SETH

Just after the time of the show though, I know I'll live until the end of WWI and get to be friends with Teddy Roosevelt!

AL

Someone ought to make a buddy movie about you two, you're fucking badass enough to warrant it.

SETH

Why thank you Al

Al

Call it "The Roughriders", or "The President and the Randy Maniac Bishop"…

DAN

Hell I for one'd go see that

JOHNNY

And David Milch could write it!

AL

Quick, lets get our people on the phone!

SOL

Seth should have been his V.P. would have been the most badass administration in the country's history

DAN

Fuck, why don't Al run for president? "Swearengen and Bullock…Tough on everything!"

MERRICK

I don't mean to dampen anyone's enthusiasm here…

AL

Yes you do

MERRICK

But Al is English and Bullock is Canadian so they're not eligible to run

AL

Who the fuck is then in 1876?

MERRICK

Well the Doc, Johnny, Dan, Farnum, Tolliver, myself…

AL

Stop it you're fucking scaring us

ALMA

I had something else I wanted to say but it will just have to wait for next time since we got sidetracked

CY

Hey you can't do that!

ALMA

Watch me. And now for Something Pretty Chapter 5, Free Gratis, we all hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 5

Free Gratis

Martha's expression was inscrutable as she politely thanked the Doctor for his services and poured the tea. Since she didn't seem inclined to talk more Cochran felt he should proceed. He knew he was out of his depth here but he wanted to know how she felt.

"You…you…um…you don't sound very happy Mrs. Bullock"

"On the contrary Doctor I am very pleased, I'm sure Mr. Bullock will be too." She didn't sound happy. He noticed that she said Mr. Bullock and not "my husband". He hadn't expected her to call him Seth, but what she had said suggested to him that she worried about her husband as a father and if he wanted to probe the surface of that one he'd have to ask about William. But asking about William was beginning to feel inevitable. That amiable, polite child's presence hung over the house on the best of days but now, in this room, one could practically feel it.

"Have you and Mr. Bullock talked much about having children?"

"No, this…this is rather unexpected" He tried with another relatively innocuous question

"Would you prefer a boy or a girl?"

"As long as it's healthy, I don't much care. But I wish to do my wifely duty and give Mr. Bullock a son." That didn't sound good. He decided to put his cards on the table and risk hurting her or at the very least provoking her anger.

"Mrs. Bullock, if you don't want this child…do not think I'd judge you for that sentiment…I could help you. If you don't feel you're ready…if its too soon, if you're having marital problems…my methods are not intrusive and they're tried and true"

As he suspected Martha Bullock drew herself up to her considerable height.

"Doctor, I sometimes feel that you have spent too much time among the poor girls who work at the saloons here. I am a married woman, why would I seek to" and here she shuddered "'get rid' of my unborn child? Or are you suggesting that what I carry now is not my husband's?"

Doc Cochran had a sudden uncontrollable urge to bang his dead on the table, or some nearby piece of wood. 'Nice work Cochran. You broke one very simple rule, never be the first to bring up abortion unless it is an absolute medical necessity.' She was right of course, about his working too much with prostitutes.

"Its not just whor…saloon girls who avail themselves of such services ma'am. I know respectable ladies…" then he realized who he was referring to and wanted to hit his head on the table again "No one who lives in this town of course…no sir…um women I knew before Deadwood…" He decided to stop digging himself deeper.

"Ma'am I'm sorry…I…I just want you to feel comfortable telling me anything."

"I understand Doctor Cochran. What do I owe you?"

"Nothing…this is free…gratis"

"Free gratis is a redundancy. Do you suspect me of infidelity?"

"No, of course not! Good day Mrs. Bullock" He tried to exit quickly but was held up by a fit of coughing.

"Are you alright Doctor? Can I get you something, do you need a handkerchief?"

"No, no, I'm fine!" He croaked and then hurried out as he'd intended.

Cy Tolliver walked up to Shaunessy's where he noticed the proprietor putting up another sign with a biblical quote that seemed vaguely to be about prostitution. Cy laughed at him as the hotel owner turned to greet him.

"As if anyone'd want to fuck a woman or run a brothel out of this dump" Shaunessy assumed the demeanor of a stuffed frog with his answer

"I resent you using the term dump, sir! These rooms are…"

"Where the fuck is Joanie Stubbs?" Cy asked

"Blonde woman? Statuesque? Wears a top hat…"

"The one you think about when you rub one out. Which room is she in?"

"Are you referring to self abuse sir?"

"What room you spineless cunt licker?"

This might have gone on for a while but Joanie herself appeared on the second floor in her dressing gown.

"I heard my name. What's going on? What happened to your face Cy?" Tolliver didn't have a chance to respond because Shaunessy cut in

"Why are you in a dressing gown at this time in the afternoon? I told you I'll have no imm…"

"I was takin' a fucking nap!" Joanie looked down at the hotel owner with his silly plaques and sillier mustache and for the first time she saw the profound unease there. He tried to pretend that the reason he was not at home in the world was because his righteous purity but that wasn't the cause, just his way of trying to compensate. Suddenly the power he had over her, to make her uncomfortable, to make her guilty, ceased. She even smiled at him kindly, because he was rather pathetic.

"Joanie, can I fucking talk to you?"

"Sure Cy, but it'll have to be outside my room, you can't come in ok."

"Like the fucking schoolhouse?" He growled "What am I that I can't be allowed in? Some kind of demon or evil fucking spirit?"

"Yes" Cy glared at her but she didn't flinch or look away

"What happened to your face?" Cy decided he'd better tell the truth since Seth might be right about everyone having seen.

"I was viciously attacked by the owner of this town's so called newspaper" Now Joanie looked concerned. For a moment he felt that he would get the sympathy he desired from her but her next words showed that the concern wasn't for him

"Cy what did you do to that poor sweet man to make him snap like this?"

"I didn't touch him! Why does everyone blame me? I'm the one with a busted nose and everyone's taking his side. Have you ever thought that his nice guy act might be a cover to disguise what a sick violent bastard he actually is?"

Joanie rolled her eyes

"Everyone blames you because we all know you. Granted I've only spoken to him a few times but I'm a pretty good judge of character, I can usually tell if people have something to hide. What did you do?"

"I entered into a dispute with that fucking Russian who runs the telegraph." The euphemism didn't Joanie throw Joanie off the sent

"And how badly is he hurt?"

"He…um… ok you've made your fucking point. So what about that pretty little speech you gave me earlier about not wishing me any ill and so fourth?"

Cy should be used to the idea by now, that Joanie didn't love him, that she didn't want him, that he couldn't have her. He should be and he should stop lying to himself, stop pretending that she could be replaced by Lila or Stupid or any of them. It made it worse having her in town, having her come to him when she was upset or when she was happy, trying to be kind to him. But he couldn't, he couldn't stay away from the one thing in his life that had made him happy, but he knew too that every time he got near her she lost more sympathy for him. He knew this but something in him still hoped that the next time, the next chance, she'd be just hurt enough, he'd be just hurt enough, he'd say the right thing, and she'd come back to him. Of course every time he tried this happened, he could tell that she was loosing patience with him.

"Cy, look, I meant everything I said. I want you to be happy. I want nothing more than for you to be happy. But what I want for both of us is to be friends. I want to come in and tell you about how good things are for me and I want you to congratulate me and if things are bad I want to be able to come to you and have you give me advice. I want you to come and tell me that you're doing well and you've found yourself another girl so than I can know you're happy and be glad for you."

'I won't find another girl, there is no other girl I want you!" Cy wanted to yell, but he couldn't so he let Joanie continue

"Then if things aren't to great you can come over and we can commiserate…"

"Isn't that what we're doing now?"

"There's a difference between talking about problems like friends and you running to me for sympathy."

"We ain't friends Joanie" Cy snarled "We're never going to be friends! Don't pretend we can be…"

"Well that's a shame Cy, because I would really like it if we could be friends."

"For God's sake woman, we were together for 18 fucking years. Don't that mean anything to you?"

"Of course it does, you know it does. You're an important part of my life…of me and I'll always think about you, but this needs to stop. I'm sorry that your noes is broken." Joanie turned to leave but Cy grabbed her and some combination of the laudanum and his desperation made him say something he'd never been able to say before

"You can't fucking turn your back on me like that, I love you!"

"I don't love you. I…I can't love you…I can't love any man Cy, my nature won't let me. I've tried believe me I've tried…" and she disengaged again only to have Cy pull her closer. What would have happened next neither of them knew because at that moment someone came up behind Cy and yanked him away from Joanie. Cy turned to face Charlie Udder. Cy threw a punch at him but Charlie grabbed his arm and hit him in the gut making him double over.

"This ain't your fucking day, is it Tolliver?" Demanded Charlie, but of course he already had the answer "First you kill that dope fiend then you try and kill that girl and beat that poor telegraph operator. You know what you are, you're pathetic. You always were but now you've outdone yourself. So fuck off before I mess that face of yours up even worse!"

Charlie tipped his hat to a concerned looking Joanie.

"Sorry about that, I hope he didn't bother you too much. I came to see how you and Jane were doing."

"We're…well…we're alright. Jane's asleep…otherwise I'd ask you to come in. I know, we should all have dinner together." Cy groaned here as loudly as he could hoping to distract Joanie. Charlie however immediately chimed in

"I'd love to. So I'll come back at six or seven say and meet you two?"

"Six it is then. I hope I'll be able to get Jane up." Cy groaned again but the only reaction he got was for Joanie to go back into her room and for Charlie to walk off.

Charlie had to admit that he resented Jane a little. He knew that Joanie was in love and he knew better than to try and change that. Charlie had little sympathy with the man he had just punched, for being in the same predicament but dealing with it like an adult. Unlike Tolliver he could tell that she was the way she was. But when his guard was down or he was away from camp, he would sometimes fantasize about what life could be like for them. He dreamed about getting her out of that hotel and into a lovely house that they would share, also Cy Tolliver would suddenly decide that what he really wanted to do with his life was become a cavalry officer so he'd leave Deadwood for good and hopefully be killed by a friendly tribe of Indians. He knew none of this would happen but he liked to think that there was some chance that she'd let him take care of her and he could make her happy. He'd definitely make a better partner than Jane, but then again he was glad that something like this had happened to her as well. Jane deserved a break.

Al and Merrick stood in Al's office both with the sense that there was more to say but not sure how to begin. Merrick was staring dolefully at the bloodstain on the floor.

'I shouldn't have brought him in here' thought Al 'I wish he didn't have to see things like this. I shouldn't have told him, or any of them really. Now they all feel complicit. But maybe I like that, maybe I want to feel that this was something we all did'

"Why Jen? Why not Trixie?" asked the newspaperman "Of course I'm not implying I'd prefer that but it does seem…more just."

"Here we are getting back to justice. I don't think there really is any justice. People get dealt a hand and then they have to play it. Until you're dead the world fucks you over unless you do it to others before someone does it to you…"

"Al in some ways you're right. It isn't fair that you had it so hard and people like me have gotten it so easy, and yes you are right; my rather sheltered upbringing has given me a certain way of looking at things. Though I'd like to make a note that though I myself have been lucky until recently I have witnessed a great deal of suffering in my time. But I would also postulate that what you have been through also endowed you with a certain mindset. It's all very subjective but I think for all your talk of justice's nonexistence I don't think you entirely believe it."

"Maybe you're right. But the point I was fucking leading up to if you would have let me finish, is that in this cruel indifferent shithole we call a world you can only do so fucking much. You got to take care of your own Merrick. You can't take care of everyone but you can take care of your own. If it means you have to let some people go to hell. But I think you kinda know this, even if you won't admit to it, hence your abandoning of your ethical principles in order to teach Tolliver not to fuck with your best friend." Merrick squirmed a little

"As you well know Al, my principles are easily abandoned."

"They conflict! Your principles are often at fucking odds with each other and one set has to win."

Merrick nodded "Thank you for that assessment, it's a kind way of looking at things. Anyway as to your generous offer I'll forgo the liquor" Al snorted "But I might…eh…look in on Dolly this evening…you know to…"

"Talk to her for an hour, you realize that in your own way you're a specialist?"

"Plenty of men do it!"

A silence descended between the two men and their eyes both drifted back to the bloodstain on the floor. It made Al kind of sad to see Merrick like this, he supposed it was the contrast between the boundlessly optimistic, confident, and innocent man and the despairing confusion that had begun to set in, the world weariness that he saw looking back at him. But wishing things were different did nothing and was painful to boot. Al knew from experience that he was in for a world of hurt whenever the phrase "I wish it didn't have to be like this" slunk into his mind. As a boy and later as an adolescent he had thought that almost daily but he'd eventually been able to counter it with "Tough luck Al, that's the way they are". He supposed part of the reason he felt the way he did about Merrick was that a part of him wished he could trade with the other man. To have a good education, a career which (at least claimed) to serve a higher purpose, time to read, and the ability to just say what was on his mind, the luxury of expressing weakness, and freedom from having to do the kinds of things that he had just done this morning.

Merrick turned to leave when Al called him back.

"So what had you moping around the saloon earlier?"

"Hearst will open up a new newspaper in town. I'm sorry I didn't let you know earlier but I figured it wasn't urgent. I suppose now…" The tenderness had just felt for his friend evaporated.

"Merrick if you start fuckin' feelin' sorry for yourself I'll throw this book at you again."

"All right, I'll see you later then."

"Pathetic"

"I didn't say anything!"

"I was talking about Hearst! His opening another newspaper."

"I know" said the newspaperman in an exceedingly gloomy tone "He can't just kill people and buy people and have people beaten up. He has to have a complete stranglehold on information as well. He'll be installing his own telegraph next."

"That's what you think he's doing?" Asked Al in a tone of mock surprise. "I was under the impression he was just doing it as a "Fuck You" to a certain newspaperman who wouldn't bend to his will."

"Really?" Al didn't completely believe this, he thought Merrick's explanation was probably more accurate but that wasn't the point

"Hearst wanted you to fucking bow down to him and do what he said. But you wouldn't in fact you went out of your way to go after him, publishing the letter and that article about the shooting. Also I bet he was sore that you didn't say anything about his getting shot, like he was nobody and that kind of thing happened everyday. He couldn't bribe you or bully you or break you. So what does he do? At considerable expense he gets someone to come and fight you. If you think about it it's an admission of defeat." The words had their desired effect and after a second Merrick returned Al's gaze with a look of jubilation.

"Thank you Al, yes that…that is the way to think about it. My, my I have a lot of work to do. Oh dear I rushed out earlier without…"

"I told you, drinks on the house"

"Are you sure?"

"Special "if Al makes you bleed" deal just for you." Merrick smiled and went back through the door to his press. Al leaned against the desk.

"Doesn't take much to pick him back up when he's down does it Chief? One of the things I like about the bastard, doesn't give up easy…tenacious. Of course that's what makes him really fucking annoying. Speaking of tenacious and really fucking annoying…" Al strode out of his office and looked down at his saloon. His eyes fixed on Bullock.

"Don't you have a home to go to?"

MARTHA

We hoped you liked Part 5 and continue following along with Part 6 which should be here shortly.

SETH

So what were you going to say earlier Alma?

ALMA

Just that the author wanted to say that some characters are being focused on much more than others

MERRICK

Yes, it seems as though my prominence in this serial is wildly incommensurate with my role in the show…not that I'm complaining! No one ever writes about me so it's been lovely.

CY

I've noticed that I seem pretty fucking prominent too, I think she likes me.

ALMA

Which is why the young lady would like me to say that which characters she chooses are more a function of whose voice she feels most comfortable with, for whatever reason. Crucially which characters she felt she saw very clearly where they were headed in the sadly nonexistent Season 4. By the way she doesn't like you Cy, you are just here because of that second reason. It has little to do with personal character preference.

CY

Damn it


	6. Chapter 6

TRIXIE

Hey there, I'm Trixie with the fucking introduction. Welcome to Chapter Fucking Six. If it ain't Chapter Six you want then go back to Chapter Fucking Five or the like

SOL

Or forward to Chapter Seven

TRIXIE

There ain't a fucking Chapter Seven yet!

SOL

Yes but there will be eventually.

TRIXIE

You got some special Jew method of predicting the fucking future?

SOL

Do you feel that all the character arcs can be satisfactorily concluded in this next segment?

AL

They can't be concluded in a fucking fan fic! A fourth fucking season would be much appreciated

SETH

Good luck getting the cast together.

AL

Oh I have my methods

DOC

I don't know if I want to think too hard about that one

ALMA

You don't want to think too hard about it because it makes no sense. We are all fictional characters

SOL

Hey speak for yourself! I'm real, I have my own Facebook and Wikipedia page!

JANE

I'm fucking real! I look a little different in other movies and books and so fourth…

JOANIE

Its ok Alma, it ain't just you. I'm not real either

MARTHA

Oh stop it everyone! You know what she means. Technically I'm based on a real woman but I do not resemble her physically and my relationship with my husband is radically different. So though there was a "Martha Bullock" she and I are really different people.

HARRY MANNING

The real me was a little more dignified, also he actually won the election…by buying it. Well it was the same thing in those days

AL

I was actually worse in real life

SETH

If you can believe it

AL

You were also a good faithful husband

SETH

Checkmate

SOL

I don't believe the real Sol had a sexy prostitute girlfriend like me

TRIXIE

You notice how most of us ladies are made up?

DOLLY

Especially us whores

ALMA

Me too, as a matter of fact

SETH

That's too bad for the real Deadwood

TRIXIE

Oh god not this again. So anyways, here's Chapter…

DAN

Chapter Six

TRIXIE

And fuck anyone who doesn't like it!

Chapter 6

Tread Lightly

Martha Bullock traversed the town again, this time with less self-consciousness if not less concern. Before she had felt as though she was sneaking around behind Seth's back but now that she was going to be totally honest with him she felt unburdened. It also made her glad to know for sure, before she had been certain it had been difficult knowing how to feel, also her mind had immediately gone through all the other possible medical explanations, none of them pretty. But she was going to have a child, she knew for certain now. She and Seth would need to get some things ready, she would need to find someone to replace her for a little bit at the schoolhouse. She began to ponder this as a way of avoiding thinking about Seth's reaction or her own feelings. Why had the Doctor been so quick to jump to the conclusion that she didn't want her baby? Was it just that he was used to prostitutes? Or did he believe her to have paid her husband in kind for his adultery? Or was it merely that she had been so resolute about not betraying her conflicting emotions that she had seemed not to care?

She wanted her baby; she wanted it very much. Though thinking about it brought up once joyful now painful recollections of her first pregnancy. Robert had been so happy at the prospect of becoming a father and had been overjoyed when he first met his healthy son. But now they had both been taken from her and in their place she had Seth and her child to come, if it ever did. Seth was not his brother, he lacked Robert's warmth. Also her last husband had had a sense of humor and Seth's idea of a joke was saying that she made weak tea. But she appreciated what Seth had given up for her, he wanted so badly to do the right thing. Though…if she was being honest it had begun to turn into something more. She would always love Robert in a way, but she thought of him less and less as the months went by.

The really pressing question was how would Seth be as a father. It shouldn't be a question really. She had after all married him to provide William with a father. He had been good to the young boy, but would he be able to talk to a little girl? How would he deal with a baby? She'd heard enough about her father in law to be aware that neither of her husbands had had any kind of model to go off of.

She arrived at Star and Bullock Hardware and entered to find only Sol who bobbed his head respectfully in lieu of tipping his hat.

"Good afternoon Mr. Star, have you seen Mr. Bullock about anywhere?"

"Well…um…it's been a rough day for all of us…why don't I go get him for you?" Martha's spirits sank a bit

"You have news of the election then?"

"Yes, for the most part. I mean things might still change but…" He trailed off and after a long pause Martha decided that she could reasonably speak without it being an interruption.

"You were both defeated?"

"Just…eh…just Seth. Apparently… I may have won."

Martha smiled. She was glad to hear this and touched by the way that Sol was trying to cover up his excitement.

"Well congratulations Mr. Star, we really must do something to celebrate."

Sol returned her smile but her next question wiped it off his face

"So where is my husband?"

"He's…he's in The Gem. I'll go and get him" Martha shook her head

"That's very kind of you Mr. Star but I will go myself. I have something rather important to tell him" Before he could argue she turned and left the store, crossing the street to the saloon where she strolled briskly through the swinging doors as if she'd been walking into saloons across the country on a regular basis.

Merrick returned to his office to check on his friend. Blazanov looked worse than before and the prostitute from the Bella Union looked nervous.

"Mr. Blazanov are you alright? Or rather has your condition worsened?" he just shook his head in reply and so Merrick turned to Lila.

"I told him to be careful with that stuff, first you take it for pain but then you start makin' up excuses and pretty soon its all you can think about" She was beginning to look a little panicked "I can't do it anymore…I just can't…it fucking owns me…it…"

"Miss…Lila you said your name was? I'm sorry to interrupt you but I need to ask. Did he take the laudanum?" She nodded but before he could say anything else the telegraph operator vomited onto the floor. Merrick understood and somewhat relieved that his friend had at least taken the painkillers went and found a washcloth and bucket making a brief trip over to the pump to get water. When he came back he found that Blazanov had thrown up again and Lila was stroking his forehead. Merrick begun to mop it up as his friend protested feebly

"Please, Mr. Merrick do not…you do not have to…this is disgusting…"

"Well so is me with my shirt off but you helped me to dress when I was injured. This is just what friends do for each other…or so I'm told. I don't know I never really had any before."

"Your head! It is bleeding…" Blazanov tried to sit up but Lila quickly forced him down

"Oh that, its nothing" responded the newspaperman.

"You really should not…"

"Yes I should! Look I've finished, vomit is really very easy to clean up. As I'm well aware of speaking as a sometime drunk." Merrick wrung out the towel and went off to dump the water in the street. He noticed Mrs. Bullock walking towards the Gem and he inclined his head to her but she didn't see him. He was made uncomfortably aware of the fact that there was a prostitute in his office. 'So what?' said a voice in his head 'who gives a fuck? Why do you care about looking respectable to Martha Bullock, you aren't respectable or else you wouldn't be here. Embrace it, stop trying to be someone else. You beat the shit out of the nastiest man in town today' Merrick gritted his teeth, he'd had enough of talking to himself over the years. So he came back in and took a look at Blazanov and Lila. 'Poor girl' he thought 'where can she go now? She can't go back to the Bella Union that's for sure. Of course I'll let her stay here but what will she do?'

"Are you feeling any better Mr. Blazanov?"

"This is my comeuppance"

"What?"

"This is what I get for not helping you. You came and defended me I failed to defend you"

"Oh for god's sake!" Merrick cried in frustration "Haven't I told you I don't blame you in the slightest? What could you have done? Besides in case you haven't noticed I'm alright. Hell I'm glad he beat me!"

"You're glad?" asked Lila "Oh you're one of those types…you know if you want someone to hit you with a…

"No that's not what I meant. Ever since Al put off the speeches I'd been waiting for things to get bad, terrified that when they did I wouldn't be able to take it, that I'd crack, that I'd embarrass myself. But then I got the shit beaten out of me and I just took it and got on…I'm sorry for my used of language there Miss… But…well…The only time I complained about the pain was when someone asked me how I was doing. Al asked me how I was doing! I'd spent years making up ailments and complaining to doctors just hoping I could make someone care about me, just the tiniest little bit…and now…now I have you, and Al…"

"I was going to run." Said Blazanov in a tone of absolute bitterness and self reproach "I heard what was going on and as soon as I grasped it my first instinct was to run…by the time I had become master of myself again he was gone. I am not a good friend to you. You came today…"

"Mr. Blazanov today I was in an insane mood. If you caught me on another day I probably would just have left it to Bullock…"

"One of Mr. Swearengen's men was threatening me and I gave a very brave speech about how I would not give information even if they were to try and torture me…ha… very brave I turned out to be."

"But you didn't, that's all that really matters." The other man scoffed "My dear friend after what happened to you and your family…you know how bad things can get…I think what often passes for bravery is really naiveté or insanity. If I had known how dangerous this town really was I would never have moved here…but I'm so glad I did. You see Mr. Blazanov…"

"Sasha" he said very softly, so softly Merrick didn't hear it at first

"Excuse me"

"My full name is Aleksandr but my family always called me Sasha…it is diminutive…that is what they called me and you are the closest I have to family now…maybe I overreact a little…"

"Oh, you are most definitely overreacting"

"Maybe I overreact a little because you are all I have, if anything happened to you…" For a moment Merrick couldn't think of anything to say to this. Somehow he never found himself at a loss for words when asked to describe the towns thoroughfares but when it came to emotions like these words didn't seem enough. Anything to simple would probably be a cliché, anything too eloquent would seem disingenuous. In the end all he said was;

"Arthur, my first name is Arthur"

Trixie found Dolly around the back of the Gem in a small nook in between the saloon and the newspaper office. Trixie knew that area well, she'd gone there often for a smoke or on nights when she was sore or just couldn't bear the thought of another dirty drunken miner putting his hands on her. But not Ellsworth, no he was the only one she'd been able to stand come hell or high water. Other men hit, or fucked too rough, or called her a worthless cunt, or blamed her when they were too drunk or too old to get it up. Ellsworth had just put his money down, done his bit and thanked her. He'd tried to cheer her up if she was having a bad night or lend a sympathetic ear if she was pissed off. Other men other men deluded themselves into thinking that what they'd paid for had meant something, other men tried to kiss her on the mouth, other men asked her if she'd liked it when what they wanted to hear was reassurance that their small cocks weren't that small, other men sat there and cried and expected her sympathy.

Sometimes she had sat there and imagined what it would be like if all of a sudden all the men in the world just disappeared. Surely everything would return to shitus quo pretty soon but for a little while she liked to imagine just the whores with no one to beat them or fuck them. Just allowed to do as they pleased. She was thinking about that now. No more Al making choices for her that she had to live with, no more Sol trying to act like nothing had happened, no more George Hearst, no more hypocrite former sheriff, no more incompetent new sheriff, no more telegraph operator too dumb to accept a free blowjob when was standing right in front of him. It would just be her and Dolly and the whores. She could just move in with Alma and Sofia and they could raise her together. The sound of Dolly crying brought her promptly back to earth.

"Dolly, I'd understand if you blamed me…" Dolly in her characteristic taciturn manner cut her short with a hug. The two women stood there for several minutes in silence. Then Trixie was crying too.

"Its all my fault"

"Stop it Trixie"

"I stand in the god damn bank or I lie there at night with my fucking Jew who fucking…who fucking loves me…her loves me so fucking much…and I think about you and the girls back here…"

"And we're happy for you. We're all happy for you"

"I'm a whore Dolly! I'll always be a whore."

"No, you're not. Not any more." Dolly felt completely out of her depth. Ever since she could remember Trixie had been the strong one. The one who'd told them to stop crying and who'd taken the brunt of Al's anger for any of them and covered for them when they couldn't take it any more. After she left Dolly had done her best to step up and fill that void.

"I am still a fucking whore! And I hate it, I hate the thought of others suffering in my fucking place. All the time I think about how you now have to take all the shit I used to have to take. And now…now! Jen had to die for my fuck up!" There was nothing Dolly could say to this and there was nothing Trixie could do to alleviate that guilt. She would carry it with her for the rest of her life. Moments passed until Dolly could think of one thing that might help just a bit.

"Al hasn't beaten me you know. Trixie, there's nothing you can do about us or for us. All you can do is help yourself. You were given a way out and you took it, none of us blame you and if we were in your position we'd do the same. Only I know I for one'd have fewer scruples. You have a right to it." Trixie begun to shake her head so she pressed on "You are a good person and you have a right to be happy Trixie." But she just shook her head even harder and without saying anything pulled away from her friend and walked back into the Gem.

When Martha walked into the Gem Dan's simultaneous reactions were to take off his hat and wonder if he shouldn't go up and tell Al about this. He then reassured himself that this would probably be over soon, she was just here to collect her husband. It shocked him to see these two unrelated parts of the town coming together like this, though it had been odd for the widow to come into the Gem it seemed so incongruous to see the school teacher at the saloon. Seth didn't even turn around, so busy glaring ahead of him he didn't notice her entrance.

"Mr. Bullock" she said calmly "I was wondering if you would come back to our place of residence with me as I have some important news to discuss with you"

"I'll be back later Martha" he replied, still without looking at her.

"I would prefer if you came with me now" Martha knew that it wasn't important whether or not Seth heard right away, she could tell him later, or tomorrow, or the next day, but it was the callousness with which he dismissed her that made her want to argue.

"Well I would prefer to stay here for a while." He finally turned to look at her and what he said next had a hint of a plea under the barely restrained anger "Just give me a little time Martha, please"

But Martha wasn't going to give up that easily, though she was beginning to feel faint, something about the smell of the place combined with the fainting spells she'd been having for the past month or so. She wanted to leave and for her husband to leave with her. "I do not think this is a wise method of addressing your grievances, I feel it would be better for you to come home with me"

"Yes Bullock, go home!" Everyone looked up to see Al who had emerged from his office, looking down at them. Of course this had the opposite of the desired effect. Seth whirled around and shouted up at Al

"Don't you dare tell me what to do!"

"Well someone fucking has to! Um...sorry Mrs. Bullock" Seth clearly couldn't take it any longer

"You fucking dare play the conscience, Swearengen? How dare you fucking pretend you care about whether or not you offended my wife? That you have the fucking nerve to lecture me when you killed some poor innocent girl this morning for…"

"And you did fucking nothing!" Seth stood completely still for a moment, then he reached into his pocket and slammed a few dollars down on the table for the whiskey then strode out, his expression daring anyone to cross his path. Martha waited for a minute, so as not to seem to be going after him, then moved to make a dignified exit. Unfortunately for her the lightheadedness that she had been keeping at bay hit her as soon as she turned to leave and she clutched at the bar to steady herself. She heard a commotion and soon found that the man behind the bar was holding her.

"Y'all right Mrs. Bullock?"

"Yes, thank you very much" she tried to move, to get out of there as quickly as she could, but stumbled and found herself even closer to him. Martha decided to stay put for a second, though tears of humiliation were beginning to well in her eyes. So she kept them shut and just let herself stay leaning against the barman's solid bulk.

"Mrs. Bullock, would you like to sit down?" It was the other man who spoke now, Mr. Swearengen, his voice was as close to tentative as a voice like his could get. She drew a breath in.

"Yes, yes I would." Then she allowed herself to be guided to the chair he'd pulled out for her.

"She just went sorta limp Al…I didn't touch her or nothing." Martha concentrated on breathing in and out. She looked down at the table. The wood was roughly cut and the sides were chipped where men had sharpened their knives and dark stains that could be tobacco or liquor, or maybe blood.

"Yeah I saw what happened dumbshi…Go get the Doc"

"No there's no need." She said as quickly as she could "I shall be fine momentarily, I merely felt faint for a moment" She did not want to have another conversation with the doctor today. She found herself regaining clarity bit by bit.

"I'm sorry to have inconvenienced you gentlemen. I came over faint just now but I shall be better directly."

"Do you need anything to drink?" Offered Al "Water or something stronger'd be better." Martha shook her head vigorously so Al tried again "Do you need to lay down maybe? My bed's just upstairs…" She looked up at him startled then got up to quickly.

"No, sir. Thank you. You have been most kind now if I may…"

"Let me walk you home" Al interrupted looking her straight in the eyes.

'Why is this so fucking hard?' thought Al. It was an art, being proper, being correct. It should be an easy thing, talking to a woman like this. But it wasn't, he had felt it upon entering her house, her world was alien to him. Sometimes he felt as though he'd been he'd grown up in a foreign land with wildly different customs.

Martha looked back at him, or looked through him it felt. But she could see that he was genuine, see that he was trying. So she smiled slightly.

"Thank you Mr. Swearengen. I would be glad if you accompanied me."

TRIXIE

This is beginning to feel like one epic round of hurt/comfort

SETH

Well there's a lot of hurt on this show. By the way I like your invention of the phrase shitus quo. I should start using it

AL

Making up fucking words and the like

DAN

Don't hold a candle to hooplehead

ALMA

Well not all of us can be David Milch

TRIXIE

A girl can try can't she? Anyways thanks for fucking reading and sorry about the delay. Not laziness just a good old fucking case of writers block!


	7. Chapter 7

DAN

Hey y'all. This here is Chapter 7 and its called…

JOHNNY

Say I know Deadwood's gone for good but I was thinkin' what about spinoffs? That way we wouldn't need the whole cast.

TRIXIE

I'm not sure you could get the fucking execs to invest in that. Who would it be anyway?

AL

Well we were talking about that and…

DAN

Excuse me but I was in the middle of this here fucking introduction!

AL

Well it was fucking boring. Anyway we were thinking that Doc could do one called CSI: Cock Sucker Investigations

TRIXIE

I feel like Ellsworth could have his own show

GHOST OF ELLSWORTH

I'm dead!

CY

What about The Real Whores of Deadwood? I feel like that would get the key males 18 to 49 demographic

GHOST OF ELLSWORTH

If I may comment, isn't Justified a kind of spin off to Deadwood?

HARRY MANNING

Yeah but our characters are actually pretty different, I mean Revered Smith is a hit man

SOL

Also I feel like Raylan Givens is pretty different from Seth if you really look at them.

AL

Maybe we have to move this away from HBO, have an all Al Swearengen channel on public access

ALMA

Excuse me, don't you mean an all Deadwood channel? So each of us can have a show

AL

No I meant the Al channel. On an unrelated note here's our story Chapter 7 Figuring How To Live

Chapter 7

Figuring How To Live

Martha and Al walked arm in arm down the street towards the Bullock house. Martha tried not to notice that people were giving her strange looks, or maybe it was Mr. Swearengen they were looking at. Everyone knew him, but he so rarely left his saloon that maybe it shocked them to realize that he could leave the premises of The Gem.

Al for his part was just trying to match step with her and stay at the correct distance from her body. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gone about with a woman on his arm. Wait…yes he could. One time in Chicago, before everything went south, when he had just started making money and he wanted to celebrate. He'd bought Trixie a new dress and dolled her up to take to a nice restaurant. That evening had not ended well but he remembered going through the streets of the big anonymous city with a beautiful woman hoping that people would notice her, and by default, him. Within him there flickered the desire to have a woman like that again. They had cut a fine figure back then, unlike now with Bullock's wife. He was made uncomfortable by the fact that this woman was at least two inches taller than he was. She and the sheriff were well matched, in more ways than one. He hoped that the Bullock could keep his randy maniac bishop tendencies in line, it would be too bad for him to lose this one.

Al had always felt a little perplexed by that passionate, consumptive affair between him and Alma. Though over the years he had come to the conclusion that the loves of others almost never made any sense of any kind to those on the outside. But something about that couple had struck him as fundamentally wrong. Not at first, after all they were both good looking people and he assumed that normally Bullock could play the part of a gentleman. But after he'd met her, he had gradually come to the conclusion that a gentleman was only what she pretended to want. If she really wanted a gentleman she would have been happy with that stupid twit of a first husband. Thinking of him filled Al with a sort of irrational jealously. Cocksucker like that didn't deserve a woman like Alma. No, Alma Russell Garrett Ellsworth didn't want an East Coast dude like that. But she didn't like foul language either and wanted to be able to have a pleasant conversation over tea. That was why she liked Bullock. He could act civil, he could be polite, he could play the part of the man she was supposed to want. But underneath all that, well, a great deal of plaster shaken loose from the ceiling of the Grad Central would attest to Bullock's true nature.

Though rationally this all made sense he couldn't help the strong but rootless conviction that there was something not right about the two together.

Martha could see that Mr. Swearengen was lost in his thoughts but since he showed no sign of getting found again she spoke

"Mr. Swearengen. I would like to apologize on behalf of my husband. He's not himself and I'm sure that when he calms down he will see that you were simply trying to help…" Al snorted at this but too late realized that it was rude

"My apologies"

"No apologies necessary Mr. Swearengen. I would also like to thank you for the kindness you showed me back in your establishment and the kindness that you are showing me now."

Al tried to think of something to say but just wound up nodding so Martha continued

"I would also like to apologize for the disturbance I caused. I hope you have not been overly inconvenienced by my behavior."

This time Al realized he couldn't get away with nodding.

"It's no inconvenience Mrs. Bullock. Lots of men'd be fuck…sorry…be glad to have the chance of taking you on their arms." Suddenly what Mrs. Bullock had said earlier and her fainting spell connected in his mind and he cursed himself for not having picked up on that angle of things earlier.

"Mrs. Bullock, I hate to pry but you said to your husband that you had something to tell him. Then well you fainted and I can't help but wonder if they're ain't some connection betwixt the two. You wouldn't be ill would you mam? Because that would be…well that'd be too bad"

Al did feel concern for Martha but he had to admit that he had had to prevent himself from saying "that would be too bad for the camp". They might need to find a new schoolteacher. He had already begun drafting the notice "Wanted: Open minded frontierswoman learned enough to teach children. Ability to tolerate salty language and human feces on the floor of newspaper offices are necessary skills."

"No Mr. Swearengen…thank you for your concern but I'm…I'm not ill as such." She couldn't meet his gaze as she said this but Al could tell that the question had made her uncomfortable, combined with the illusiveness of her reply gave him his answer…well after he'd thought about it for a minute or two.

"Well that's…that's…that's fu…wonderful Mrs. Bullock. I'm very happy for you and your husband." Her husband, where the fuck had he gone off to? Al cursed him silently. He'd send one of the men after him, or…or he should send someone to the widow's place. The thought that Bullock might be up to that at a time like this aroused in Al an unholy combination of worry and irritation. Then he wondered why this bothered him so much, why was it his job to babysit fucking Bullock? He supposed part of it was dabbling in the affairs of others in this way made him feel he'd regained some of the control he used to have. Part of him he supposed just didn't like stupidity and Bullock wrecking his marriage struck Al as exceedingly fucking stupid. He was also worried about Mrs. Ellsworth. She was alone and vulnerable now, and upset and bound to fall back into bad habits, like dope or Bullock.

By this time they had reached the Bullock house and Al and Martha parted cordially, but as he turned to leave she called him back.

"Mr. Swearengen, I'm afraid that in a few months…if all goes well…I'll have to take a leave of absence from the school."

"You want I should send for another teacher?"

"No, I…I derive a great sense of purpose from the work I do there. I do not wish to give it up permanently. Also, well there are any number of things that might go wrong… and I don't want some poor woman to come out here for a few months. I was thinking, how well do you know Miss Stubs?"

"Not very well I'm afraid, seems a good fu…a good sort from what I've heard of her."

"Well I was thinking that if she was not otherwise occupied, well I could train her a bit and then she could take over while I'm away"

"That sounds like an excellent idea"

"Thank you, I just thought of it now and wanted to run it by someone. If I die of course you should send for another teacher…"

"Hey don't you start talkin like that…"

"Mr. Swearengen I know the risks. The way a solider going to war knows that in the service of his country he may have to lay down his life we know that in order that life may continue we too must risk death."

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to patronize you Mrs. Bullock, just…well I suppose I just…you're supposed to be happy…" he eventually blurted out. He didn't know what prompted that. He was no stranger to the process by which people came into the world going horribly wrong. It was just he somehow imagined that for married women it was different.

"I am happy!" Mrs. Bullock practically snapped "Why does everyone insist on telling me I am not adequately happy! For Chri…I am married to a man who I settled for because his brother died who I have grown…fond of…and who does not love me not to mention the fact that I do not go a day without thinking of my poor dead son! I know of other women who go on having lost children but I…I cannot…if…" at that point emotion overcame her and she turned away from Al. He gave her a moment. When she turned around she was still not quiet herself and her voice trembled when she spoke her voice trembled a little.

"I'm very sorry Mr. Swearengen. Would you care to come in? I can make some tea or coffee if you'd prefer."

"You want something to go wrong with your pregnancy"

"What?"

"You don't think you could stand it if you have the baby, take care of it, raise it (like you did William) and something happens."

"Mr. Swearengen would you like to come in?" she didn't look at him as she said this. Al realized that she was terrified of anyone seeing or hearing her like this. The idea of going in made him uncomfortable, but he didn't want to leave her like this and return to the bloodstain and torments of conscience that awaited him in his office.

"Sure Mrs. Bullock, I'll come in." He followed her into her house but had no intention of giving up the conversationMartha still had her back to him but he heard her sniff.

"You alright?"

"I'm sorry you had to see me today Mr. Swearengen. I feel myself to be unraveling, so to speak"

"When I get to feeling that way someone usually ends up dead or grievously injured…" Al then realized that in some circles that might not be funny, particularly since it was true. All Martha said however was:

"Tea or coffee?"

"Tea sounds awful nice right about now"

"Tea it is then"

Lila sat in the telegraph office in front to the equipment. It hadn't made any noise and she was grateful, as she was frightened that something important might come and it would be her fault that it didn't get through. She was feeling the effects of what she had taken earlier wear off replaced by the need for a fix, soon it would be unbearable, unrelenting. She eyed the laudanum the doctor had left. That temptation could only stand for so long, she'd yield soon unless she distracted herself somehow.

"Mr. Blazanov?"

"Yes?"

"Are you awake?" Blazanov slowly opened an eye to see the pretty girl with the dark hair still sitting at his chair looking at him with concern.

"In a manner of speaking"

"Did I wake you up?"

"No, I was…drifting…I was dreaming, I was not dreaming…I saw things…" he moved his hand around in an exceedingly vague gesture.

"I know what you're talking about"

"What is your name again?"

"Lila, I'm Lila. I work at the Bella Union. Mr. Tolliver he owns me…"

"No he does not"

"Yes he does, he bought me from my pa for seven dollars…"

"People cannot own other people…it is not anymore legal in this country…in the United States Constitution it says… I forget for the moment…well what it means is that that Mr. Tolliver, that…" and here he cursed in Russian, apparently finding English lacking the correct expletive "he does not own you"

"I suppose that's alright but…well I don't think that'll do much to change…well anything…"

"What will you do?"

"I don't know. I don't know how to do anything. Must be nice having a real job, a vocation I mean. You can…well you can do things. I'm useless I'm…I'm good for nothing." Said the prostitute her words trailing off into deepening despair

"I am sure that is not true"

"Mr. Blazanov?"

"Yes Miss Lila?"

"Just Lila. Do you believe that God loves us?"

"How would you like me to answer that question, Lila?"

"Honestly"

"I believe the almighty is indifferent to our misery"

"You really think so?"

"He might just be incompetent, or possibly he has favorites. In either case he is not a God I wish to worship. Of course if he does love us he could be powerless, perhaps having made the world he cannot change it and what we see is only what we hope to see" Lila didn't respond for a while as she thought this over.

"Doesn't that make you sad? I think that myself sometimes and it makes me miserable, thinking he doesn't love me. If God and Jesus don't love me than no one does" She gave a sad little laugh.

"I do not mean to insult your faith but you asked for me to be honest"

"Oh no, you don't have to apologize for anything." A silence descended once again until Lila begun to think of the laudanum bottle.

"What about heaven and hell? Do you believe in those?"

"Not really" responded the telegraph operator

"Is that terrifying or comforting?"

"A little of both"

"Do you think wishing to die or trying to kill yourself is a sin Mr. Blazanov?"

"No I do not. If God does nothing to ease the pain then he ought not to judge those poor souls who choose to end their suffering." Lila gave another sad little laugh.

"What is funny?"

"You just seem…well you seem rather cheerful, then you say these things…" Lila trailed off

"I am cheerful, except when I am sad. Are you saying I am not in pain?"

"No, no…all I meant was. Well how do you go on living? How does anyone?" Mr. Blazanov pondered this for a moment then gave his answer.

"Kiss me"

"What?" It was not an unwelcome suggestion but it surprised her.

"You are very beautiful. I like the sound of your voice. I am very loaded right now. You are kind to stay with me…"

"Your friend was here too for a while. He just stepped out..."

"I like waking from a reverie to see you" Continued the telegraph operator, but before he could say anything else Lila leaned over and, placing her hands on his face, kissed him full on the lips. It lasted for some moments then they broke apart.

"I've never kissed a man on the lips before, well of my own volition that is."

"Thank you Lila"

"It…it was nice. You're nice…"Their eyes met and she trailed off, then she leaned over and kissed him again and then again.

Al returned to the Gem after tea with Martha in improved spirits. Though he wasn't sure if the Bullock front would turn out all right but he hoped it would. He liked the schoolmistress and he supposed he liked Bullock too in a way.

"Hey Adams, you busy right now?"

"Not especially."

"Then could you go over to Mrs. Fucking Ellsworth's house and watch it to see if fucking Bullock shows up, inconspicuous like?" Adams raised his eyebrows

"Far be it for me to question your judgment but do you think that this is an efficient use of time and recourses?"

"What? Well fine if you're so fucking smart take over the whole fucking operation."

"Are you…are you by any chance jealous Al?"

"No! What kind of bullshit is that? Time and fucking recourses…fucking…" Al stormed off to his office where he pulled the bottle out of his desk that he hadn't finished earlier.

Why did this bother him so much? He'd been thinking about Bullock and her ever since he'd finished talking to Martha…

"Jesus fucking Christ" He said aloud as realization hit him "I'm…"

But before Al could finish his thought Dan yelled from the ground floor "Mr. Tolliver to see ya Al!"

"Send him up!" Al barked back downing some more whiskey to deal with his unexpected and sure as hell unwelcome guest.

Tolliver slunk in like a beaten dog trying not to be noticed

"What do you want?" Snapped Al

"I don't think its wise for you to talk to me like that"

"I don't think it's wise for you to drag your sorry cheap cologne smelling ass in here but you just did. I'm not too fucking happy with you Tolliver, picking on that poor fucking telegraph operator like that. The Russian is to be left alone, do you hear me cocksucker?"

"As I have been saying all day he started it!" Cy growled

"Don't pull that shit with me, it wasn't like you were minding your own business and he just took a pot shot at you or something. He's one of mine, you leave him alone or else you will have to answer to me, have I made myself clear?"

"Is there anyone in this town you don't own?"

"I didn't say I own him, I said he's under my protection. Anyway in case you've forgotten Hearst owns the town. I know for sure he owns you"

"And that was why I came over Swearengen. I want to let you know that I don't work for him any more."

"You resigned officially?"

"No, I still work for the cocksucker nominally but he's fucked us all over, we're on the same side and we, well we have to fucking stick together. I'm declaring my allegiance to the town of Fucking Deadwood."

Al snorted "Well ain't that sweet"

"I mean it"

"Fine then, I'll keep that in mind. But if you're serious about this there's something you need to do."

"What?" Tolliver asked grudgingly.

"You have to go next door and tell the telegraph operator that you're sorry"

"I'm fucked if…" Cy interrupted

"And accept the newspaperman's apology, he feels fucking terrible about what he did to you, not that he should."

"No way in hell will I say I'm sorry to the fucking Russian who fucking started it and if I see the other cocksucker again I'll beat the living shit out of him!"

"I wouldn't recommend you do that, the last man who did died a slow painful death" Cy's eyes flicked down to the bloodstain on the floor.

"I…I won't"

"Goodbye then, and you can shove any ideas of us being on the same team up your ass." Al pretended to read the newspaper on his desk as Tolliver just stood there. Finally the other man mumbled something that sounded like "Fine, I'll do it" and shuffled out of Al's office.

After the door closed and his temporary satisfaction waned Al was left with the uncomfortable epiphany he'd had earlier

"Fuck me." He said out loud "Adams was right I am fucking jealous…I don't want Bullock to be with Mrs.…with Alma because I…I want her. I, Al Swearengen, am completely fucking cunt struck"

ALMA

Al is there something you want to say to me?

AL

Um….

SETH

Oh this is great, what did you say to me about…

AL

Alright, alright, lets just wait for the next installment?

WU

Wu! Spinoff! San Francisco!

JOHNNY

That would be great Wu but I think you'll have to learn to speak American first, ok?


End file.
